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AT  A  DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

Ripples  on  the  Edge  of 
THE  Maelstrom 


AT  A  DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

Ripples  on  the  Edge  of 
THE  Maelstrom 


By 
ROBERT  L.  RAYMOND 


BOSTON 

MARSHALL  JONES  COMPANY 

MDCCCCXIX 


■XOHANOC       ^/ 

Copyright,  igig 
By  Marshall  Jones  Company 


All  rights  reserved 


First  Printing,  October,  1919 


THE  UNIVERSITY   PRESS,  CAMBRIDGE^  U.  8.  A. 


TO 
M.  M.  R. 


427370 


Contents 


PAGE 


Trap-Grease 3 

Settling  the  Peace  Terms 21 

Shipbuilders 47 

One  Hundred  and   Fourteen  in  the 

Shade 73 

All  Quiet  Along  the  Potomac    ...  99 

Munitions  OF  War 129 

Distinguished  Service 161 

The  Peace  Bells 201 

Postscript 227 


TRAP-GREASE 


AT  A  DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

TRAP-GREASE 

GENERAL  Lucius  Quintus  Gish  had 
a  fine  cavalry  seat.  He  was  ''  regular 
army,"  —  not  a  West  Pointer,  but 
having  entered  the  service  from  civilian 
life  tw^enty  years  before  the  great  war,  had 
long  since  outstripped  all  West  Point  offi- 
cers in  matters  of  military  punctiliousness 
and  in  the  strength  of  his  conviction  as  to 
the  ineffectiveness  and  general  futility  of 
civilian  life.  He  was  a  short  fat  little  man 
with  chubby  round  cheeks,  white  hair  and 
a  white  moustache. 

He  sat  erect,  head  a  little  back,  his  legs 
booted  and  spurred,  describing  that  arc  of 
a  circle  which  when  applied  to  legs  is  com- 
monly known  as  "bow,"  and  glared  with  a 
martial  eye  at  the  men  before  him. 

"The  hour  of  assembling  is  twelve 
o'clock,"  he  called  out  in  strident  tones  of 
command.    "An  order  from  the  President 

[3] 


■  *•■       A't^A" -DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

*  wYtht •lE>lir^d-S-ta'tcs-is  the  only  thing  which 
will  be  considered  an  excuse  for  absence 
or  tardiness.  I  will  not  have  either  one  in 
any  organization  I  command." 

He  brought  his  clenche^d  fist  down  on 
the  desk  before  him  with  a  bang;  for  the 
scene  was  not  in  the  field,  and  General  Gish 
was  not  on  horseback  addressing  a  troop 
of  cavalry.  His  mount  was  an  office  chair, 
and  his  audience  the  fourteen  heads  of  sec- 
tions of  the  Camp  Service  Division  Office 
of  the  Quartermaster  General.  Seated  in 
the  long,  low-ceiled,  paper-walled  room  of 
one  of  the  temporary  war  buildings  which 
had  crowded  every  foot  of  vacant  space  in 
the  parks  and  open  places  of  Washington, 
about  half  of  those  present  were  in  uniform, 
while  the  others  were  clad  in  the  garb  com- 
mon to  peaceful  business  men.  These  last 
fell  on  General  Gish's  tortured  vision  with 
about  as  gratifying  an  effect  as  a  colored 
Sunday  Supplement  would  have  had  upon 
the  eye  of  Raphael  when  his  canvas  had 
been  set  to  paint  a  Madonna.  A  wise  and 
great  man,  acting  as  Quartermaster  General 
of  the  army,  had  hit  upon  the  startling  dis- 
covery that  men  selected  for  the  express 
purpose  of  handling  strictly  business  mat- 

[4] 


TRAP-GREASE 

ters  in  business  offices  might  be  able  to 
accomplish  results  as  well  if  they  retained 
their  familiar  identities  as  civilians  as  if 
they  were  compelled  to  dress  as  majors  and 
captains.  General  Gish  knew  how  to  take 
orders  from  those  of  higher  rank,  and  when 
the  innovation  was  decreed  had  perforce 
made  gallant  efforts  to  swallow  his  resent- 
ment, which  however  he  never  succeeded 
in  getting  much  below  his  diaphragm. 

All  the  men  present  had  made  a  success 
in  their  own  affairs,  and  many  had  amassed 
considerable  fortunes,  when  the  call  to  duty 
caused  them  to  leave  everything  behind  and 
give  their  time  and  service  to  their  country. 

A  year  before.  General  Gish  had  been 
one  of  the  oldest  captains  in  the  army,  and 
never  until  grim-visaged  war  put  a  pre- 
mium on  every  member  of  our  regular 
forces  had  he  dealt  with  a  transaction  in- 
volving a  sum  larger  than  one  thousand 
dollars.  Since  our  entrance  into  the  war 
he  had  been  chief  of  the  Camp  Service 
Division, 

^'  He  certainly  is  having  the  time  of  his 
life,"  whispered  Bob  Stockdale  to  Tresham 
who  sat  beside  him,  as  the  General  pro- 
ceeded to  deliver  a  lecture  which  a  batch 

[5] 


AT  A  DOLLAR  A   YEAR 

of  repentant  recruits  returning  drunk  and 
disorderly  from  leave  of  absence  might 
have  found  appropriate. 

^^  Section  heads  will  now  make  their  re- 
ports to  me,"  said  General  Gish,  having  in 
the  course  of  twenty  minutes  exhausted  a 
somewhat  limited  vocabulary. 

Each  man  stood  in  turn  and  described  his 
efforts  to  spin  the  wheels  of  army  organiza- 
tion, while  General  Gish,  with  his  military 
habit  of  instantaneous  decision,  interpolated 
comments  and  commands  which  performed 
a  function  similar  to  that  of  a  monkey- 
wrench  dropped  in  the  midst  of  delicately 
adjusted  machinery.  The  section  heads 
took  it  all  in  good  part.  They  had  not  come 
to  Washington  expecting  a  pleasure  party. 
Even  though  some  agreed  with  Brown's 
declaration  that  he  would  as  lief  be  in 
a  state  prison,  they  were  willing  to  play 
the  new  game  as  well  as  they  could.  Be- 
sides, they  had  a  hazy  idea  of  their  stand- 
ing, and  even  the  civilians  rather  suspected 
that  General  Gish  could  put  them  in  irons 
without  a  moment's  warning  and  without 
the  formality  of  a  court-martial.  Most  of 
them  middle-aged  men,  accustomed  to  con- 
duct their  own  businesses  as  they  liked,  each 
[6] 


TRAP-GREASE 

cherished  a  strong  fellow  feeling  for  the 
traditional  cat  in  a  strange  garret. 

'* Garbage!"  vociferated  General  Gish. 

Mr.  Jones  arose  and,  shifting  heavily 
from  one  foot  to  the  other,  timorously  re- 
marked: "Well,  General,  I  am  having  a 
very  bad  time  with  Camp  Gettysburg. 
They  won't  make  the  proper  separations, 
and  the  contractor  declares  he  won't  pay 
for  what  he  doesn't  get." 

General  Gish's  eyes  flashed  fire.  "The 
contractor  refuses  to  pay  on  an  army  con- 
tract? "  he  bellowed. 

"But  he  says  he  doesn't  owe  anything," 
ventured  Mr.  Jones,  "and  I  think  there's 
some  merit  in  his  contention." 

General  Gish  looked  at  Mr.  Jones  malevo- 
lently. "That  contractor  must  be  made  an 
example  of,"  he  announced.  "  I  won't  have 
this  division  laughed  at.  Mr.  Stockdale, 
as  head  of  the  legal  section  I  want  you  to 
take  this  matter  up  at  once  and  see  if  you 
can  land  this  man  in  prison.  Report  to  me 
at  conference  tomorrow.     Dismissed." 

General  Gish  rose  and  with  clanking 
spurs  marched  from  the  room,  followed  by 
Major  Bowker,  recently  commissioned  from 
civilian   life,    whose   duty   it  was   to   say 

[7] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

"That's  so,  General,"  when  General  Gish 
spoke,  and  who  was  euphoniously  described 
by  the  latter  as  his  Chief  of  Stafif. 

"  What  in  the  devil  did  you  let  me  in  for 
this  for?"  demanded  Stockdale  of  Jones  as 
the  section  heads  filed  out  from  their  daily 
hour  in  the  torture  chamber. 

Jones  mopped  a  somewhat  fevered  brow 
with  his  handkerchief.  "  I  let  you  in?  "  he 
queried,  with  pardonable  indignation.  "  I 
let  you  in?  Why  I  had  n't  started  my  story 
when  that  old —  However,  I'll  turn  over 
the  papers  to  you,  and  you  can  recommend 
that  I  be  sent  to  jail  if  you  can't  find  another 
goat." 

After  three  hours'  study  of  contracts  and 
a  file  of  correspondence  which  ran  as  high 
as  the  twenty-fourth  endorsement,  Stock- 
dale  put  his  head  into  Tresham's  room, 
which  was  next  to  his  own,  and  demanded, 
"What  in  hell  is  trap-grease?" 

Tresham  was  engaged  in  a  desperate  at- 
tempt to  figure  out  how  to  establish  a  stand- 
ard for  shoe-repair  work,  when  it  appeared 
that  thirty  men  at  Camp  Shiloh  could  put 
in  perfect  order  five  hundred  pairs  of  shoes 
in  three  days  while  fifty  at  Camp  Vicksburg 
reported  a  hundred  of  the  same  repaired  in 

[8] 


TRAP-GREASE 

a  week.  It  reminded  him  somehow  of  a 
problem  of  school  days  long  ago,  which  to 
his  exhausted  mind  seemed  to  have  to  do 
with  a  wheel  six  feet  in  circumference 
travelling  a  mile  and  a  half  and  the  number 
of  men  it  would  take  to  do  the  same  piece 
of  work  in  four  days.  Consequently  he  re- 
peated the  word  '^Trap-grease?"  with  a 
rising  inflection  and  in  a  somewhat  ab- 
stracted manner. 

"Yes,  trap-grease,"  said  Stockdale  with 
some  irritation.    "What  in  hell  is  it?" 

"I  suppose  you  catch  it,"  said  Tresham 
brightening  up.    "  Why  do  you  want  any?  " 

"Want  any?"  said  Stockdale  with  a  hos- 
tile stare.  "  Look  here,  Phil,  I  Ve  got  to 
report  on  this  mess  to  old  Von  Moltke 
tomorrow,  and  I  wish  you'd  be  a  little 
sympathetic  and  let  me  run  over  the  facts 
as  I  understand  them,  and  then  advise." 

"Fire  away,"  said  Tresham  genially,  as 
he  shoved  the  shoe-repair  reports  further 
back  on  his  desk.    "  I  'm  listening." 

Stockdale  drew  up  a  chair  and  turned  an 
earnest  gaze  on  his  friend. 

"  It  seems,"  he  began,  consulting  certain 
notes  in  his  hands,  "that  all  Gaul,  I  mean 
all  Garbage,  is  divided  into  four  parts,  as 

[9] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

follows:  {a)  Bones,  (b)  Bread,  which  in- 
cludes all  bread-stuffs  unfit  for  human  food, 
(c)  Raw  fats,  cooked  meats,  grease,  includ- 
ing trap-grease,    {d)   Other  garbage." 

^^I  bet  I  know  what  other  garbage  is," 
interrupted  Tresham.     ''  Swill." 

^^Why,  it's  all  swill,  you  dummy,"  said 
Stockdale.    ^^  Let  me  get  on." 

"Oh,  all  right,"  said  Tresham,  "go 
ahead." 

"Now  the  man  who  buys  the  garbage 
at  Camp  Gettysburg,  awfully  decent  and 
humane  sort  of  a  chap  he  seems,  fussing  all 
the  time  because  he  won't  have  broken  glass, 
tin  cans  and  washing  powder  in  his  garbage ; 
says  the  hogs  he  feeds  it  to  don't  like  it,  and 
one  of  them  choked  himself  to  death  with  a 
bit  of  glass  the  other  day;  well,  this  fellow 
complains  that  the  Camp  Quartermaster 
won't  turn  over  the  trap-grease  and  in  con- 
sequence he  refuses  to  make  his  last  monthly 
payment  on  the  contract." 

Tresham  held  up  his  hand.  "One  mo- 
ment," he  said.  "Will  my  listening  to  this 
help  win  the  war?" 

"  Sure,"  answered  Stockdale.  "  If  not, 
why  are  you  in  Washington?" 

"  I  only  wanted  to  make  certain,"  said 

[lO] 


TRAP-GREASE 

Tresham.  ^^  Go  ahead.  What  does  the 
Camp  Quartermaster  say  to  the  charges?" 

^^ Here's  his  last  telegram,"  said  Stock- 
dale.  ^^^  Trap-grease  absolutely  at  con- 
tractor's disposal,  camp  full  of  it,  con- 
tractor very  remiss  in  removing  same, 
causing  great  inconvenience  and  endanger- 
ing health  conditions.'" 

''  Great  Scott,"  said  Tresham,  "  that  con- 
tractor is  a  bad  one  after  all.  Any  come 
back  from  him  to  that  telegram?" 

^^Yes,"  answered  Stockdale,  ^^ here's  a 
letter  in  which  he  offers  to  prove  that  the 
men  in  at  least  half  a  dozen  messes  are  doing 
him  out  of  his  trap-grease  by  selling  it 
themselves." 

''  It  certainly  is  a  hard  nut  to  crack," 
admitted  Tresham,  ^^but  what  does  Jones 
say?    He 's  garbage  expert." 

''  He 's  just  gone  off  on  an  inspection  tour 
for  a  week,"  said  Stockdale  bitterly.  ^'  Of 
course,  I  went  to  see  him  the  first  thing 
after  I  'd  read  the  papers.  Meanwhile  I  've 
got  to  report  tomorrow." 

"What's  the  money  value  involved? 
How  much  does  the  contractor  hold  back?  " 
queried  Tresham. 

Stockdale    looked    a   trifle    sheepish    in 

[II] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A   YEAR 

Spite  of  the  fact  that  the  controversy  was 
none  of  his  contriving. 

^*  That  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  he  said. 

^^How  much?"  persisted  Tresham. 

"Well,  forty-two  dollars  and  sixty-five 
cents,"  admitted  Stockdale. 

"  Great  Scott!  Look  here.  Bob,  if  I  give 
a  check  for  the  amount  wouldn't  that 
help?" 

"  Nonsense,"  exclaimed  Stockdale  un- 
gratefully, "the  point  is,  how  am  I  going 
to  convince  General  Gish  that  he  can't  put 
the  contractor  in  prison?" 

"Oh,  I  know  the  answer  to  that,"  said 
Tresham  blithely.  "Convince  Gish?  It 
can't  be  done.  If  that's  what  is  troubling 
you,  forget  it." 

Stockdale  smiled  somewhat  ruefully  and 
looked  at  his  watch.  "  I  guess  you  are 
right,"  he  said.  "Half-past  five.  Let's  go 
home." 

The  two  walked  slowly  up  Pennsylvania 
Avenue,  pausing  for  a  while  at  the  corner 
of  Twelfth  Street  to  watch  Col.  Beaumont 
of  the  British  Aviation  Corps  do  a  tail-spin 
in  his  aeroplane  which  stopped  just  short  of 
the  roof  of  the  New  Willard. 

"There's  one  fellow  who's  got  nothing 

[12] 


TRAP-GREASE 

to  worry  about,"  observed  Tresham  as  they 
resumed  their  walk,  each  with  a  slight  crick 
in  his  neck. 

^^ That's  so,"  agreed  Stockdale.  ^^Only 
risks  his  life  once  or  twice  a  day.  He's  all 
right,  certainly." 

Stockdale  dined  that  night  at  the  Bart- 
leys.  They  had  a  magnificent  house  on 
Massachusetts  Avenue,  and  the  party  was 
a  large  one.  At  dinner  he  found  himself 
seated  next  to  the  beautiful  Miss  Lovering, 
formerly  prominent  in  New  York's  smart- 
est smart  set,  now  resting  in  Washington 
after  six  months'  Red  Cross  Canteen  Serv- 
ice in  the  War  Zone.  She  had  hair  the 
color  of  dafifodils,  blue  eyes,  a  complexion 
that  can  only  be  described  truthfully  by  the 
word  peach-blow,  an  air  of  high  distinction, 
and  looked  on  the  whole  like  a  Russian 
princess.  Her  manners  were  charming 
and  confiding,  not  to  say  insinuating,  and 
her  near  presence  was  a  balm  to  Stockdale, 
who  had  known  her  slightly  for  some 
time. 

"  Do  tell  me  about  your  work,"  she  said 
after  a  preliminary  exchange  of  common- 
places had  occurred.  ^^  You 're  in  the 
Quartermaster's  Department,  aren't  you? 

[13] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

And  a  civilian?  What  an  experiment  they 
are  making!    Do  you  like  your  work?" 

Stockdale  smiled  grimly.  ^^  It  has  all  the 
charm  of  novelty,"  he  observed. 

*^What  is  your  specialty,  —  Clothing, 
Equipage,  Remount  or  Subsistence?"  asked 
Miss  Lovering,  w^ho  amused  herself  by 
keeping  a  very  pretty  hand  on  the  pulse  of 
the  war  machine  in  Washington. 

^^Well,  I've  spent  today  studying  gar- 
bage, if  you  must  know,"  answered  Stock- 
dale.  ''  It 's  a  very  interesting  subject.  All 
garbage  is  divided  —  " 

*'  I  don't  want  to  know,"  interrupted  Miss 
Lovering.  '^  Surely  your  war  work  can't 
consist  wholly  in  dealing  with  what  I  have 
always  heard  called  by  a  shorter  and  uglier 
word.  Don't  you  bring  your  trained  legal 
mind  to  bear  on  anything  else?"  She 
smiled  encouragingly. 

"Well,  yes,  I  suppose  I  do,"  admitted 
Stockdale- 

"What?"   pursued  Miss  Lovering. 

"Well,  if  you're  really  interested,"  said 
Stockdale,  who  was  growing  more  cheerful 
every  minute,  looking  first  at  Miss  Lover- 
ing and  then  down  the  table,  "manure." 

Miss    Lovering    paused    in    the    act   of 

[14] 


TRAP-GREASE 

carrying  her  glass  to  her  lips  and  gazed 
at  Stockdale  sternly,  but  seeing  only  an 
open  and  ingenuous  countenance,  one  too 
that  she  somehow  found  singularly  attrac- 
tive, threw  back  her  head  and  laughed. 

'^  Upon  my  word,"  she  said,  ''  I  don't 
wonder  you  look  worried." 

*^  Oh,  it  is  n't  that,"  answered  Stockdale. 
His  troubles  seemed  to  be  slipping  away 
in  the  congenial  society  in  which  he  found 
himself.  ^^The  subject  matter  of  my  job 
does  n't  bother  me  a  bit.  I  'm  going  to  have 
framed  a  form  of  contract  I  'm  working  out 
to  cover  the  sale  of  garbage,  and  also  one  for 
manure.  I  '11  hang  them  in  my  dining  room, 
along  with  the  family  portraits,  so  my  de- 
scendants can  say,  ^This  is  what  he  did  in 
the  Great  War.' " 

Stockdale  looked  to  the  other  end  of  the 
table  and  exclaimed,  ^^  By  Jove,  there's  my 
boss  now." 

Miss  Lovering  followed  his  glance. 
'^  Oh,  General  Gish?  "  she  remarked  with  a 
laugh.    ^^  Isn't  he  a  funny  old  dear?" 

Stockdale  gazed  at  her  suspiciously. 
'^^Dear'  isn't  just  the  word  I  would  use, 
if  you  asked  me,"  he  answered. 

*^  He 's  a  great  beau  of  mine,"  went  on 

[15] 


AT  A  DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

Miss  Lovering,  ^^and  will  do  anything  I 
ask  him." 

Hope  gleamed  in  Stockd ale's  eye.  From 
a  full  heart  he  poured  out  a  tale  in  which 
the  words  ^^ rnartinet,"  ^^penitentiary"  and 
last  but  by  no  means  least  ^4rap-grease" 
were  of  frequent  occurrence. 

Miss  Lovering  was  hugely  interested. 
'^  Leave  it  all  to  me,"  she  said  mysteriously 
as  she  rose  from  the  table.  "  Good-night. 
I  have  some  diplomatic  work  to  do  and 
shan't  see  you  again  this  evening." 

The  following  day  Stockdale  filed  in 
with  the  other  section  heads  to  the  con- 
ference room  with  a  sinking  heart.  He 
had  no  report  ready,  and  Miss  Lovering 
at  the  moment  seemed  as  far  away  as 
General  Pershing.  Stockdale  could  not 
see  much  chance  of  help  from  either  of 
them. 

General  Gish  and  Major  Bowker  entered, 
and  all  stood  up  respectfully  until  they 
were  seated. 

General  Gish  looked  a  trifle  more  impor- 
tant and  martial  than  usual,  if  such  a  thing 
was  possible.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  however, 
there  was  at  the  moment,  floating  before 
his   mind's    eye   an    entrancing   vision   of 

[i6] 


TRAP-GREASE 

feminine  loveliness  which  murmured  in 
dulcet  tones  the  words :  ^'  You  are  so  tactful, 
General  Gish,  that  I  know  you  understand 
how  to  get  the  best  out  of  the  men  under 
you,  by  trusting  them,  giving  them  com- 
plete responsibility,  I  mean."  Without 
preliminaries  he  uttered  the  magic  word 
^^  Garbage!" 

Stockdale's  heart  skipped  three  beats,  and 
then  did  a  sort  of  side-step.  It  was  useless 
telling  himself  that  General  Gish  could  not 
commit  him  to  prison  or  other  place  of  con- 
finement. It  was  useless,  because  in  the 
innermost  recesses  of  his  heart  he  rather 
suspected  it  might  be  done.  What  could  n't 
be  done  in  war  times? 

^^Mr.  Stockdale,  your  report." 

Stockdale  rose.  "All  garbage  is  di- 
vided— "  he  began. 

"No!  no!  no!"  exclaimed  General  Gish. 
"I  want  your  report  on  the  situation  at 
Camp  Gettysburg." 

Stockdale  caught  Tresham's  eye  and 
sought  inspiration,  but  finding  none  there 
remarked  desperately,  "The  contractor  is 
not  getting  his  trap-grease." 

"Ha,"  said  General  Gish,  breathing 
heavily.    "What  is  trap-grease?" 

[17] 


AT   A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

Stockdale  had  passed  beyond  the  point  of 
caring  what  happened. 

"I  think  you  catch  it,"  he  said,  *^and 
perhaps  the  contractor  has  n't  used  the  right 
bait." 

A  shudder  passed  round  the  room,  and 
General  Gish  seemed  about  to  explode. 
Presently  he  did  so,  with  a  laugh  that  caused 
him  to  pufif  and  choke  until  his  face  became 
so  deep  a  purple  that  Major  Bowker  was 
observed  to  lean  forward  towards  his  Chief 
and  heard  to  mutter,  ^^ That's  so.  General," 
although  the  latter  had  not  spoken. 

"  Mr.  Stockdale,"  resumed  General  Gish, 
"  I  do  not  care  to  enter  into  the  details  of 
this  matter.  As  Chief  of  our  legal  section 
you  should  be  competent  to  settle  the  affair 
without  further  reference  to  me.  Do  so. 
I  have  an  appointment  with  the  General 
Staff  and  will  hear  no  other  reports  today. 
Dismissed." 

General  Gish  and  Major  Bowker 
marched  out  of  the  room  with  clanking 
spurs. 

"What  did  it  mean?"  asked  Tresham 
of  Stockdale  as  the  two  walked  down  the 
corridor  to  their  offices. 

"What  is  the  handsomest  present  you  can 

[i8] 


TRAP-GREASE 

properly  send  to  a  girl  you  hardly  know?" 
asked  Stockdale  by  way  of  answer.  He 
paused  at  the  threshold  of  his  door.  ^*  One 
whom  you'd  like  to  know  better?"  he 
added. 


[19] 


SETTLING  THE  PEACE  TERMS 


SETTLING  THE  PEACE  TERMS 


IT  was  a  mere  coincidence  that  Tresham 
and  Stockdale  found  themselves  doing 
war  work  in  the  same  office  in  Wash- 
ington. The  former  had  been  at  his  post  for 
some  months  when  Stockdale,  upon  the 
recommendation  of  one  of  the  Assistant 
Secretaries  of  War,  came  on  to  take  his 
place  as  head  of  the  newly  created  legal 
section  of  the  Camp  Service  Division, 
O.  Q.  M.  G. 

The  two  were  life-long  friends,  and  their 
close  association  was  as  pleasing  to  them 
as  it  was  unexpected.  They  ^^kept  com- 
pany," after  the  day's  work  was  over,  with 
considerable  regularity.  Stockdale  was  a 
bachelor,  and  so  temporarily  was  Tresham 
—  presumably  for  the  duration  of  the  war. 
His  wife  and  several  children  remained  at 
their  all-the-year-round  country  house  out- 
side of  Boston,  while  he  tasted  again  the 
doubtful  joys  of  single  life.    Tresham  pro- 

[23] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

fessed  to  find  these  not  only  irksome  but, 
as  he  phrased  it,  "terrific."  The  fact  re- 
mained, however,  that  in  spite  of  working 
longer  hours  and  under  greater  pressure 
than  he  had  ever  done  before,  he  had  gained 
in  weight  and  gave  a  general  impression  of 
being  something  like  ten  years  younger 
than  when  he  arrived  at  the  nation's  capital. 
He  attributed  this  curious  result,  the  ex- 
istence of  which  he  could  not  deny,  to  the 
tonic  eflfect  upon  the  human  system  of  great 
sacrifices  borne  with  fortitude. 

Single  men  in  Washington  during  the 
year  191 8,  whether  spurious  or  the  genuine 
article,  did  not  need  to  spend  their  evenings 
in  seclusion  unless  they  preferred  to  do  so. 
They  were  wanted  for  dinners,  and  theatre 
or  bridge  parties,  both  those  where  the 
gentler  sex  provided  a  tranquil  contrast  to 
the  war  whirl  and  those  for  men  only. 
Tresham  and  Stockdale,  however,  after  a 
hard  day's  work  generally  chose  to  spend 
the  evening  far  from  the  madding  crowd. 
After  dinner  at  some  hotel,  they  were  ac- 
customed to  speed  back  to  Tresham's  rooms 
on  the  top  floor  of  the  apartment  house  on 
H  Street  near  the  club.  It  was  a  cosy  little 
eyrie  and  looked  out  towards  the   State, 

[24] 


SETTLING  THE   PEACE   TERMS 

War  and  Navy  building,  the  many  lighted 
windows  of  which  gave  a  cheery  appearance 
to  the  night. 

One  evening  early  in  May,  after  a  period 
of  mental  discipline  devoted  to  an  heroic 
endeavor  to  keep  their  minds  off  the  war, 
an  attempt  which  had  reduced  both  par- 
ticipants to  a  state  of  acute  nervous  irrita- 
tion, Tresham  suddenly  asked,  "What  is 
the  latest  date  you  would  be  willing  to  take 
for  the  end  of  the  war?" 

"How  do  you  mean  ^take'?"  queried 
Stockdale. 

"  Well,  you  don't  know,  and  I  don't  know, 
when  the  war  will  end;  nobody  knows." 

"No." 

"Your  guess  or  mine  is  just  as  good  as 
the  Kaiser's?" 

"  Probably." 

"  Now,  I  don't  mean,  when  do  you  think 
the  war  will  end,  but  taking  into  considera- 
tion the  fact  that  it  may  end  soon  or  may 
last  for  a  long  time,  what  date  would  you 
be  willing  to  accept?" 

"I  think  it  will  end  sooner  than  most 
people  do,"  said  Stockdale  musingly,  "say 
in  about  three  months." 

"You've  thought  it  would  end  in  three 

[25] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

months  for  the  last  three  years,   haven't 
you?"       . 

Stockdale  nodded  assent.  ^'.And  lost  a 
good  deal  of  money  on  it,"  he  observed. 

^^  Never  you  mind,  old  top,"  Tresham 
said,  ^^ don't  get  discouraged.  If  you've 
got  a  good  idea,  stick  to  it.  You  keep  right 
on  saying  three  months,  and  some  day,  if 
you  live  long  enough,  you  '11  be  right.  But 
that's  not  the  question  I  'm  putting." 

^'I  don't  get  just  w^hat  you  are  driving 
at,"  admitted  Stockdale. 

^^  I  '11  illustrate.  You  don't  know  how 
long  you  are  going  to  live,  do  you?" 

"No." 

"  Well,  what  age  would  you  be  willing  to 
accept  as  a  certainty?" 

"  I  would  n't  accept  any  age.  I  don't 
want  to  know  when  I  'm  going  to  die," 
answered  Stockdale  with  some  alarm. 

"  Confound  it,  you  are  n't  going  to  know. 
I  'm  just  trying  to  show  you  what  I  am  talk- 
ing about.  You  don't  think  I  can  tell  you 
how  long  you're  going  to  live,  do  you?" 

"  No,  nor  when  the  war  will  end,  either." 

"  Oh,  well,"  observed  Tresham  with  some 
indignation,  "  if  you  don't  want  to  discuss 
a  very  pretty  problem,  don't." 
[26] 


SETTLING   THE   PEACE   TERMS 

^^  Let  me  try  again,"  said  Stockdale  peni- 
tently. "You  mean,  if  the  choice  were 
given  me  of  remaining  in  uncertainty  as  to 
whether  the  war  will  end  either  soon  or 
late,  or  of  naming  an  absolutely  certain  date 
for  its  ending,  how  late  a  date  would  I  be 
willing  to  fix  for  the  sake  of  getting  rid  of 
the  uncertainty?" 

/^That's  it,"  agreed  Tresham. 

Stockdale  consumed  nearly  an  entire  cig- 
arette before  he  said,  "February  i,  1919." 

"You  don't  want  much,  do  you?"  asked 
Tresham.  "Most  people  think  the  war 
can't  end  until  the  autumn  of  next  year, 
even  if  everything  goes  on  wheels." 

"My  date  is  February  i,  1919,"  re- 
peated Stockdale  firmly.    "  What 's  yours?  " 

"The  first  of  July,"  answered  Tresham 
promptly. 

"  Hello,"  exclaimed  Stockdale,  sitting 
bolt  upright  with  surprise  on  the  couch 
where  he  had  been  reclining.  "What  has 
converted  the  old  croaker?  I  thought  you 
swore  by  these  military  experts  who  dope 
things  out  in  the  newspapers  and  take  any- 
one's head  off  who  dares  to  think  the  war 
is  going  to  end,  —  ever." 

Stockdale,   like  most  of  the  people  in 

[27] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

Washington,  had  suffered  acute  depression 
in  the  heavy  pall  of  gloom  which  hung  over 
that  city  in  the  spring  of  191 8,  —  since  that 
day  in  March,  in  fact,  v^hen  the  German 
hordes  bent  back  the  Allied  line  like  a  tor- 
rent bursting  its  dam.  It  v^as  a  time  vsrhen 
one  pounced  upon  the  tiniest  item  of  good 
news  with  avidity,  and  sought  comfort  in 
the  talk  of  wrong-headed  optimists.  When 
Tresham,  who  always  kept  his  feet  on  the 
ground,  made  the  above  startling  admission, 
Stockdale's  mercurial  spirits  soared  upward 
as  though  they  had  been  cast  loose  from  a 
hundred  ton  anchor. 

*^That  means,  of  course,  that  you  think 
it  will  end  earlier  than  the  first  of  July," 
he  went  on,  feeling  for  the  moment  almost 
as  if  the  matter  were  settled. 

*^ That's  what  it  means,"  Tresham  as- 
sented. ^'  We  're  all  scared  to  death  just  now 
at  these  drives.  It 's  bad  reading,  and  I  hate 
to  follow  them  on  the  map.  But  it's  the 
last  shot  in  Germany's  locker.  If  she 
doesn't  win  now,  and  that's  not  going  to 
happen,  she'll  begin  to  go,  and  when  she 
goes  it  will  be  mighty  fast.  Look  what 
happened  after  the  battle  of  Jena." 

"Good  old  Jena,"  agreed  Stockdale. 
[28] 


SETTLING  THE   PEACE  TERMS 

^^  I  've  been  talking  about  Jena  ever  since 
1914." 

^^It's  going  to  happen  again,"  observed 
Tresham  sagely. 

"I  hope  so!"  said  Stockdale  fervently. 
^^  But  I  can't  seem  to  picture  any  finish 
to  it." 

*^It  is  difBcult,"  agreed  Tresham.  **I 
suppose  that  v^hen  the  Germans  have  had 
enough  they  v^ill  ask  for  terms." 

*^The  way  Bethman  Hollweg  did  in 
19 16?  Good  Lord,  do  you  remember  the 
way  stocks  went  diving  for  the  bottom?" 

Tresham  nodded  grimly.  '^We're  pay- 
ing for  our  sins  now,"  he  said. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  before 
Stockdale  remarked,  "  It  is  going  to  be 
some  job  settling  the  peace  terms." 

Tresham  nodded.  "  It  is  a  tangle,  of 
course,"  he  said.  "  Still,  I  believe  Germany 
would  give  up  everything  the  Allies  want 
now,  except  her  hold  in  the  East." 

^^Alsace-Lorraine  and  her  Colonies?" 
queried  Stockdale. 

*^  I  think  so,"  said  Tresham. 

"  How  about  the  Hohenzollerns?"  asked 
Stockdale  after  a  little  reflection. 

"Up  to  the  German  people,  and  none 

[29] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

of  our  business.  If  they  do  what  we  want 
about  outside  matters,  what  do  we  care  what 
kind  of  rulers  or  form  of  government  they 
have?  If  they  want  the  HohenzoUerns  let 
them  have  them." 

Stockdale  shook  his  head.  *^You  talk 
like  the  peace  treaty  of  Vienna,"  he  said. 
**  You  put  the  emphasis  on  the  wrong  places. 
The  first  thing  Germany  must  do  is  to  get 
rid  of  that  gang  of  what  I  heard  a  fellow 
citizen  of  Italian  extraction  call  ^  Middle- 
Aged  Despots.'  Other  questions  come  after 
that.  The  Colonies,  for  example,  should  n't 
go  back  to  Germany,  but  be  handed  over  to 
Brazil,  Patagonia  or  some  nation  in  the 
South  Sea  Islands,  if  there  are  any  nations 
there,  but  not  on  any  account  to  one  of  the 
Allies.  I  don't  want  to  see  any  country 
come  out  of  this  war  any  better  off  in  re- 
spect to  territory  than  when  she  went  into 
it.  Perhaps  Poland,  I  don't  know  anything 
about  that;  but  there's  one  great  exception 
—  Alsace-Lorraine  to  France." 

"Why  the  exception?" 

"Because  it's  merely  restoring  stolen 
goods;  because  the  French  have  been  so 
magnificent;  because  a  French  officer  I  had 
lunch  with  yesterday  was  one  of  ,the  best 

[30] 


SETTLING  THE   PEACE   TERMS 

fellows  I  Ve  met  in  a  long  time.  Put  it 
down  to  any  reason  you  want,  but  it  ought 
to  be  done," 

^^It  sure  ought,"  agreed  Tresham,  "but 
where  does  your  punishment  for  Germany 
come  in?" 

"I  have  always  said,"  continued  Stock- 
dale,  "that  Germany's  real  punishment  is 
going  to  come  when  the  war  is  over.  Ger- 
many is  going  to  be  punished,  never  you 
fear.  There  will  be  bills  to  pay,  territory  to 
be  surrendered,  and  worst  of  all  a  realization 
by  the  German  people,  sooner  or  later,  of 
their  own  rottenness.  Germany  set  out  to 
do  something  on  which  her  whole  vicious 
system  was  based,  and  she  has  failed.  When 
that  sinks  in  on  the  Germans,  which  it  won't 
do  thoroughly  until  after  the  war,  they  will 
get  considerable  punishment  of  the  kind 
they  need." 

"Wouldn't  you  make  it  physically  im- 
possible for  Germany  to  start  war  again?" 

"As  far  as  that  can  be  done  within  rea- 
sonable limits.  You  can't  keep  a  nation 
permanently  in  such  condition  that  it  can't 
fight;  it  has  been  tried  and  doesn't  work. 
But  I  agree  that  for  fundamental  reasons, 
and  also  in  order  to  have  something  tan- 

[31] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

gible  to  point  to,  I  should  like  to  see  a 
public  execution  of  German  militarism." 

^^How?"  queried  Tresham. 

^^  It 's  German  militarism  we  are  fighting, 
and  that  is  the  thing  which  ought  to  be  hit 
by  the  peace  terms,"  said  Stockdale,  warm- 
ing to  his  subject.  ^' There  would  be  no 
justice  in  piling  on  indemnities  which  would 
fall  on  generation  after  generation  of  Ger- 
man people  who  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  present  aflfair.  We  don't  want  indem- 
nities covering  the  entire  cost  of  the 
war,  even  if  we  could  get  them.  I  read 
something  in  a  book  the  other  day  which 
struck  me  as  being  sound.  It  was  this: 
^  The  more  we  beat  Fritz  by  becoming  like 
him,  the  more  he  wins  after  all.'  We  don't 
want  to  do  that.  Make  Germany  pay 
enough,  no  matter  how  much  it  takes,  to 
restore  Belgium  and  northern  France,  and 
to  make  good  all  damages  to  civilians  else- 
where; make  her  give  up  Alsace-Lorraine 
and  get  out  of  Russia  and  the  Balkans;  and 
then  go  after  German  militarism.  Now 
German  militarism  is  represented  in  actual 
fact  by  things  and  by  individuals.  Of 
course,  at  bottom  it's  merely  a  vicious  and 
insane  idea,  but  nevertheless  you  can  put 

[32] 


SETTLING  THE   PEACE   TERMS 

your  hand  on  some  very  definite  manifes- 
tations of  the  idea.  My  plan  for  deal- 
ing with  German  militarism  is  based  on  an 
old  English  law  which  has  to  do  with 
deodands." 

"What's  a  deodand?"  asked  Tresham, 
opening  his  eyes  and  starting  out  of  a  semi- 
doze.     "  Sounds  like  a  bird." 

"Well,  it  isn't  a  bird;  it's  this:  Under 
the  old  common  law,  when  a  weapon,  or  in 
fact  anything  whatever,  killed  a  man,  that 
thing  was  forfeited  to  the  crown  as  a  deo- 
dand  and  put  out  of  use  forever.  For 
instance,  if  you  murdered  a  man  with  an 
axe,  the  crown  could  claim  the  axe;  or  if  a 
cart  ran  over  a  man  and  killed  him,  the  cart 
was  a  deodand  and  forfeited.  The  idea 
was  that  a  thing  could  be  bad,  and  that  a 
bad  thing  ought  to  be  punished." 

"  If  I  threw  you  out  the  window,"  asked 
Tresham,  becoming  interested,  "  and  you 
landed  on  your  head  on  the  roof  of  the 
building  below,  is  that  building  a  deodand? 
I  mean,  under  this  old  law?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Stockdale,  re- 
fusing to  be  diverted  from  his  subject,  "  but 
I  do  know  there  was  the  same  kind  of  law 
in  Athens,  way  back  in  B.  C.    There  what- 

[33] 


AT   A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

ever  was  the  cause  of  a  man's  death  was 
either  exterminated  or  cast  out  of  the 
dominions  of  the  Republic." 

"  I  only  asked,"  said  Tresham.  "  Go 
ahead." 

^'  Well,  I  should  treat  all  Germany's  war 
material  as  deodand.  After  the  peace  con- 
ference I  should  get  out  a  proclamation 
something  like  this :  ^  German  militarism 
has  been  tried  at  the  bar  of  nations,  found 
guilty  and  condemned  to  death.  The  sen- 
tence will  now  be  carried  out  as  follows: 

^^^  I.  The  German  fleet,  including  every 
war  vessel  large  or  small,  together  with  all 
guns  and  equipment,  all  other  guns,  rifles, 
small  arms,  ordnance,  and  munitions  of 
every  kind,  and  all  air  craft,  shall  be 
collected  at  designated  points  and  totally 
destroyed. 

"^2.  The  Krupp  works  at  Essen  every 
ordnance  and  munitions  plant  of  every  kind 
whatsoever,  and  all  forts,  fortresses,  military 
posts,  barracks,  cantonments  and  camps 
within  the  German  Empire,  shall  be  razed 
to  the  ground  and  all  their  equipment 
totally  destroyed. 

^^^3.  One  month  after  the  completion  of 
action  provided  for  by  Articles  i  and  2,  the 

[34] 


SETTLING  THE   PEACE   TERMS 

Kaiser  and  the  Crown  Prince  of  Germany 
shall  be  placed  on  public  trial  for  violation 
of  the  laws  of  God  and  man  before  a  plenary- 
court  set  up  by  the  Allies.' " 

Stockdale  paused  and  turned  towards  his 
friend.    ^' How's  that?"  he  demanded. 

'^  It  won't  be  done,"  said  Tresham. 

*^  Probably  not,"  agreed  Stockdale,  ^^but 
isn't  it  a  good  idea?" 

"Not  very,  old  top;  it's  too  wasteful." 

"Wasteful?"  repeated  Stockdale.  "A 
few  million  dollars'  worth  of  war  stuff  when 
millions  of  human  beings  have  been  killed? 
This  reclamation  work  has  certainly  gone 
to  your  head,  Phil." 

"Why  not  turn  over  Germany's  ships, 
guns  and  so  forth  to  the  Allies,  instead  of 
destroying  them?"  suggested  Tresham. 

"  It  wouldn  't  have  the  same  effect.  In 
the  first  place,  it  negatives  the  idea  of  dis- 
interestedness on  the  part  of  the  Allies. 
In  the  second  place,  it  entirely  misses  the 
point." 

"What  is  the  point?" 

"The  point,"  said  Stockdale,  "is  that  the 
people  of  the  world  should  be  shown  in  a 
way  they  can  understand  that  guns,  muni- 
tions  and   war   plants   generally   are   bad 

[35] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

things;  necessary  evils  at  best  and  not  to  be 
allowed  in  the  hands  of  people  who  can't 
be  trusted  to  use  them  only  for  defensive 
purposes." 

^^You  sound  like  a  pacifist,"  said 
Tresham.     **Are  you?" 

"I  don't  know  what  a  pacifist  is,"  an- 
swered Stockdale.  He  reflected  a  moment, 
smiled,  and  then  went  on,  *^^  Pacifist'  is  a 
word  that  may  mean  as  many  things  as  a 
phrase  which  is  discussed  with  considerable 
acumen  in  one  of  Anthony  Hope's  stories. 

*  Comedies  of  Courtship'  is  the  name  of 
the  volume,  but  the  name  of  the  particular 
story  I  've  forgotten.  However,  I  know  the 
discussion  in  question  by  heart." 

"All  right,"  assented  Tresham,  "I'll 
listen.     Spring  it." 

"  The  hero  had  remarked  to  the  heroine, 

*  When  you  gave  me  that  kiss,'  or  words  to 
that  effect,  and  as  the  statement  seemed  to 
her  an  exaggeration,  she  became  indignant. 
The  author  justifies  his  hero's  use  of  the 
form  of  expression  objected  to  on  the  ground 
that  ^  to  give  a  kiss '  may  mean : 

"^i.  What  it  literally  says  —  to  bestow 
a  kiss. 

"  ^  2.   To  offer  one's  self  to  be  kissed. 

[36] 


SETTLING  THE   PEACE   TERMS 

"^3.  To  accept  willingly  a  proffered 
kiss;  and  without  much  straining  of  words. 

" '  Merely  to  refrain  from  angry  ex- 
postulation and  rupture  of  acquaintance 
when  one  is  kissed.' 

^^This  last  the  heroine  had  done.  It  is 
much  the  same  with  'pacifist.'  The  word 
may  mean  an  individual  who  pats  an  in- 
truder on  the  back  during  such  period  as 
the  latter  is  slaughtering  the  pacifist's  wife 
and  children.  In  fact  that  is  the  familiar 
and  classic  illustration  most  frequently  used. 
On  the  other  hand,  people  talk  about  our 
pacifist  President,  a  man  who  is  carrying 
on  war  on  a  scale  never  before  dreamed  of 
in  this  country.  If  he  is  a  pacifist,  I  hope 
I  am.  If  a  pacifist  means  a  man  who  be- 
lieves that  the  only  lasting  good  that  can 
come  out  of  this  war  is  something  which 
will  make  other  wars  less  likely,  write  me 
down  a  pacifist.     I  am  one  sure." 

'^  Everyone  is,"  said  Tresham,  after  a 
moment's  reflection.  Presently  he  added, 
'^  Except  a  few  old-style  senators  and  half 
a  dozen  army  officers,  all  good  men  too,  who 
are  living  intellectually  in  the  Middle 
Ages." 

Stockdale  got  up,  took  a  cigarette  from 

[37] 


AT  A  DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

the  box  on  the  table,  and  went  back  to  the 
couch. 

^^It's  a  good  thing  the  country  has  got 
you  and  me  to  settle  these  difficult  points 
for  it,"  he  remarked. 

"  Is  n't  it?  "  agreed  Tresham.  "  I  took  a 
week's  vacation  before  coming  on  here, 
after  I  wound  up  my  job  as  Red  Cross  Field 
Director.  Motor,  trip  with  my  wife  in 
Virginia.  Went  through  lovely  country, 
and  had  glorious  weather;  but  I  didn't 
enjoy  it.  Couldn't  sag  back;  couldn't 
rest;  could  hardly  sleep;  felt  all  the  time 
that  until  I  got  back  on  the  job  so  I  could 
keep  in  touch  and  worry  about  things 
properly  that  the  war  was  going  to  the 
devil." 

''  I  know,"  said  Stockdale.  " It's  funny, 
isn't  it?" 

"Everybody's  doing  it,"  said  Tresham 
defensively. 

"  Except  Mixter,"  suggested  Stockdale. 

"  Mixter  is  a  curious  combination,"  said 
Tresham,  *^full  of  sentiment  and  practical 
as  a  freight  car.  He  works  like  the  devil, 
enjoys  himself  in  his  off  moments  as  though 
he  were  a  child  at  its  first  party;  doesn't 
worry,  and  gets  more  fun  out  of  being  decent 

[38] 


SETTLING  THE   PEACE   TERMS 

to  the  people  he  runs  up  against  than  any- 
one I  know." 

^'  In  the  housing  problem  in  Washington," 
said  Stockdale,  '^he  beat  the  U.  S.  to  it. 
Took  a  small  apartment  house  way  out  on 
Fourteenth  Street  and  has  let  it  out  piece 
meal  to  stranded  stenographers.  He  loses 
ten  thousand  a  year  by  that  transaction." 

^^He's  very  rich,"  said  Tresh^m  in 
extenuation. 

*^So  are  lots  of  people  who  aren't  doing 
it." 

"  I  know.  Mixter  is  all  right.  You  don't 
have  to  tell  me.  Are  you  dining  there 
tomorrow  night,  by  any  chance?" 

^' Yes,  are  you?" 

"I  am,"  answered  Tresham.  "It's  at 
seven  o'clock.  Theatre  party,  I  suppose." 
He  yawned  in  an  exaggerated  fashion,  and 
rubbed  his  eyes.  "Are  you  spending  the 
night  here?"  he  asked  with  a  grin. 

"  Oh,  I  '11  go,"  exclaimed  Stockdale.  "  I 
waste  too  much  time  on  you,  I  admit, 
but  I  'm  foolish  and  good-natured.  Good- 
night." 

"Good-night.  See  you  in  the  morning. 
Don't  dream  of  deodands  or  dodos  or  other 
fabulous  monsters." 

[39] 


AT  A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 


II 

The  party  at  Major  and  Mrs.  Mixter's 
dinner  had  to  break  up  into  contingents 
in  wending  its  way  to  the  theatre.  Miss 
Lovering,  Miss  Albert,  Stockdale  and  CoL 
D'Estrey  went  down  m  the  same  cab.  The 
last  named  was  a  gallant  French  officer  who 
had  lost  his  right  arm  at  the  battle  of  the 
Somme,  and  who  had  arrived  in  Washing- 
ton shortly  before,  on  a  special  mission. 
Tall,  smooth-faced  and  black-haired,  he 
looked  very  handsome  in  his  sky-blue 
uniform. 

The  cab  had  drawn  up  to  the  curb  and 
stopped  in  front  of  the  Paoli  Theatre,  and 
Stockdale  had  half  opened  the  door,  when  it 
dashed  forward  again  at  the  speed  of  about 
forty  miles  an  hour,  and  with  a  jerk  that 
threw  Miss  Lovering  forward  into  Stock- 
dale's  lap,  while  the  gallant  Frenchman 
found  himself  embracing  Miss  Albert  in  a 
manner  which  was  none  the  less  delightful 
because  it  was  unexpected  and  sudden. 

"What  in  the  world,"  began  Stockdale 
when  the  four  occupants  of  the  cab  had 
become  somewhat  disentangled.  He  twisted 
[40] 


SETTLING  THE   PEACE   TERMS 

his  head  round  and  rapped  at  the  window  as 
the  cab,  having  slackened  its  speed,  de- 
scribed a  loop  and  returned  in  the  direction 
from  which  it  had  come. 

^^What  do  you  think  you  are  doing,, 
driver?"  he  called  out.  "What's  the 
trouble?" 

The  driver  turned  his  head.  "The 
President's  car  came  up  behind  us,  sir," 
he  explained  respectfully,  "and  I  had  to 
get  out  of  the  way." 

"Oh,  all  right,"  said  Stockdale,  "we  are 
willing  to  accord  him  precedence." 

"  Even  in  going  to  the  theatre,"  said  Miss 
Lovering  with  a  smile. 

"  You  said  the  President,"  exclaimed  Col. 
D'Estrey,  in  much  excitement.  "  You  meant 
your  President?  The  President  of  Amer- 
ica?   Wilson?" 

"The  very  same,"  acknowledged  Stock- 
dale. 

"I  shall  see  that  man?"  went  on  Col. 
D'Estrey  with  increasing  excitement.  "  He 
will  be  inside  the  theatre  where  we  may 
look  on  him?" 

The  three  Americans  gazed  at  the  gallant 
French  officer,  and  each  one  of  them  was 
touched,  yes,  and  made  proud,  by  his  almost 

[41] 


AT  A   DOLLAR   A   YEAR 

painful  emotion.  Miss  Lovering  made  an 
effort  to  relieve  the  tension.  *^Why,  Col. 
D'Estrey,  you  may  see  him  at  the  theatre 
three  or  four  nights  every  week,"  she 
remarked. 

^^Here  we  are,"  observed  Stockdale  as 
the  cab  drew  up  at  the  Paoli  Theatre  for 
the  second  time. 

In  the  lobby  they  met  Major  and  Mrs. 
Mixter,  and  the  rest  of  the  party,  and  all 
filed  down  the  aisle  to  their  seats  in  the  third 
row.  In  an  unobtrusive  fashion  Stockdale 
so  manoeuvered  that  he  found  himself  sitting 
next  to  Miss  Lovering.  To  sit  next  to  Miss 
Lovering  on  the  occasions  on  which  they 
met  since  they  had  renewed  their  acquaint- 
ance at  the  Bartley's  dinner  some  weeks  be- 
fore, had  somehow  become  a  fixed  idea  with 
Stockdale.  Her  high-bred  beauty  and  allur- 
ing femininity  had  made  her  one  of  the  most 
charming  of  mortals  even  in  peace  times. 
Now,  beneath  the  somber  clouds  of  war,  she 
had  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  experienced 
emotions  which  stirred  her  to  the  depths 
of  her  being,  and  made  her  wholesome,  un- 
selfish nature  expand  and  blossom  forth  like 
a  rose  in  June.  An  unsuspected  love  for  her 
fellow  creatures  shone  forth  from  blue  eyes 

[42] 


SETTLING   THE   PEACE   TERMS 

that  had  formerly  looked  on  the  world 
with  a  somewhat  haughty  gaze.  On  Miss 
Lovering's  other  side  was  Col.  D'Estrey. 

^^  There  is  the  President,  just  above  us," 
she  remarked,  indicating  the  box  on  the  left 
draped  with  the  American  flag. 

Col.  D'Estrey  raised  his  eyes  and  saw, 
sitting  in  the  front  of  the  box,  a  smooth- 
faced man  wearing  eye-glasses.  The  face 
was  intellectual,  indeed  almost  ascetic.  He 
sat  back  in  his  chair  with  the  poise  of  con- 
scious strength,  and  his  heavily  hung  under 
jaw  betokened  resolute  purpose.  His  right 
hand  rested  motionless  on  the  plush-covered 
railing  of  the  box.  Near  him,  in  front,  sat 
a  pleasant-faced  old  lady  with  white  hair, 
and  further  back  were  two  younger  women. 

Col.  D'Estrey  looked  long  and  reverently. 
He  gave  a  deep  sigh  of  satisfaction.  ^^I 
have  seen  him,"  he  said  solemnly  to  Miss 
Lovering. 

The  play  was  called  "  Getting  Together." 
It  was  a  jumble  of  unconnected  scenes  of 
war-time  episodes  in  France,  treated  in  light 
fashion,  and  was  calculated  to  interest  and 
amuse  one  who,  like  Col.  D'Estrey,  had 
spent  much  time  at  the  front.  But,  except 
during  the  singing  of  a  catchy  ditty  called 

[43] 


AT  A  DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

^^  Keep  your  head  down,  Fritzy  boy,"  Col. 
D'Estrey's  eyes  remained  fastened  on  the 
box  at  the  left. 

Between  the  acts  Miss  Lovering  turned  to 
him  and  asked,  "  Well,  what  do  you  think 
of  him?    Is  he  like  his  pictures?" 

Stockdale  leaned  forward  to  hear  the 
reply.  He  was  vastly  interested,  and  wanted 
to  know  the  frank  opinion  of  this  brave 
representative  of  glorious  France. 

"  He  does  look  like  his  pictures,"  said 
Col.  D'Estrey  to  Miss  Lovering  and  Stock- 
dale,  "only  finer  and  stronger;  just  as  I 
imagined  him.  For  nearly  three  years  I 
have  been  in  the  trenches  and  have  fought 
as  well  as  I  knew  how  for  my  beloved  and 
suffering  country.  We  have  been  fighting 
to  save  our  nation,  for  its  right  to  exist,  for 
its  very  life.  We  shall  never  give  in,  even 
if  we  are  all  killed,  but  we  can  do  little 
more.  France  is  nearing  exhaustion.  It  is 
your  young  and  strong  nation  which  must 
turn  the  scale.  You  do  not  know  the  grati- 
tude France  feels  to  your  country,  nor  the 
hope  which  fills  her  aching  heart  with  a 
new  joy  now  that  America  has  come  to  our 
aid.  You  do  not  know,  you  cannot  know, 
how  we  regard  your  President.    We  have 

[44] 


SETTLING  THE   PEACE  TERMS 

been  fighting,  I  say,  to  save  France,  but 
until  your  President  spoke  we  did  not 
know  the  larger  purpose  for  which  our 
sacrifices  have  been  made.  He  has  made 
clear  to  every  one  of  our  poilus  that  we 
have  fought,  and  our  dead  have  died,  not 
for  France  alone  but  for  humanity,  for  the 
whole  world.  It  is  his  voice  which  has 
made  doubtful  things  clear.  He  has  told 
us  what  we  are  fighting  for.  I  wish  we  had 
in  France  someone  to  speak  for  us,  as  he 
has  done  for  you.  We  have  good  men  and 
strong  men,  so  has  England ;  but  those  of  us 
who  have  lived  in  the  trenches  and  seen  our 
comrades  and  friends  fall  around  us  in  bat- 
tle, all  look  to  your  President  to  express 
what  we  have  felt  and  feel.  Whenever  I 
pass  the  White  House  I  say,  *It  is  from 
there  that  peace  will  come;  a  peace  of 
justice  which  will  yet  heal  the  world.'  I 
do  not  believe  you  understand  what  your 
President  means  to  us." 

Miss  Lovering's  eyes  were  shining.  With- 
out the  slightest  attempt  at  concealment, 
she  took  Col.  D'Estrey's  left  hand,  his  only 
one,  in  hers  and  held  it  while  she  said,  "We 
will  understand  better  after  what  you  have 
told  us." 

[45] 


AT  A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

Tresham  and  Stockdale  met  for  a  moment 
on  the  way  out  after  the  play  was  over. 

^^  Perhaps,  Phil,"  observed  the  latter, 
*^we  might  leave  the  settling  of  the  peace 
terms  to  that  gentleman  who  occupied  the 
''lower  left-hand  box.  From  something  I 
happened  to  hear  tonight,  I  think  that  might 
satisfy  the  world  as  well  as  if  we  continued 
to  do  it." 

"  And  you  and  I  concentrate  on  our  own 
business?"  queried  Tresham.  "That's  a 
brand-new  idea,  but  I  'm  not  sure  it  is  a  bad 
one.    Let's  try  it." 

Habit,  however,  as  Prof.  William  James 
has  observed,  is  the  great  conservative  fly- 
wheel of  society  and  resents  innovations. 

The  next  evening  in  Tresham's  rooms, 
after  much  rambling  conversation.  Stock- 
dale  rose  and  looked  out  the  window  towards 
the  lights  of  the  State,  War  and  Navy  build- 
ing. He  turned  back  to  the  room  and  re- 
marked, "  How  would  it  do  to  put  the 
German  Colonies  under  a  sort  of  protect- 
orate and  let  them  work  out  to  inde- 
pendence, the  way  we  are  doing  with  the 
Philippines?"  And  in  five  minutes  he  and 
Tresham  were  hard  at  work  again,  settling 
the  peace  terms. 

[46] 


SHIPBUILDERS 


SHIPBUILDERS 


^TTT  reminds  me  of  the  tapir  story,"  ob- 
I  served  Peter  Carton  thoughtfully,  as 
A  he  paused  in  his  labors  to  lean  back 
and  light  a  cigarette. 

"  What 's  the  tapir  story?  "  queried  Jones, 
chief  assistant  in  the  division  of  Passenger 
Transportation.     "Tell  it." 

"Oh,  it's  long  and  needs  a  down-east 
accent,  and  has  n't  any  point  anyhow,"  ob- 
jected Carton.  After  a  moment's  pause  he 
went  on,  "A  down-east  sailor  man,  just 
returned  stiff  with  brine  from  a  two  years' 
voyage,  met  up  with  the  proprietor  of  a 
menagerie  at  the  boarding-house  to  which 
he  repaired,  and  the  two  at  once  became 
friends.  The  menagerie  man  confided  that 
he  had  two  tapirs  stored  away  in  the  cellar 
of  the  boarding-house  at  that  moment,  and 
asked  the  sailor  man  to  come  down  with 
him  and  hold  a  lamp  while  he  fed  them. 
But  when  the  two  got  to  the  cellar  it  ap- 

[49] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

peared  the  tapirs  had  broken  loose,  and  the 
menagerie  man  besought  his  new  friend  to 
aid  in  returning  them  to  captivity.  The 
latter  gave  one  terrified  look  at  the  long 
snout  and  generally  unlovely  aspect  of  the 
nearest  tapir,  who  was  rapidly  proceeding 
in  his  direction  and,  dropping  the  lamp 
with  a  crash,  made  for  the  cellar  stairs. 
^  I  signed  on  to  hold  a  lamp,'  he  called  back. 
^  I  did  n't  sign  on  to  hunt  tapirs.' " 

^^Well?"  queried  Jones,  patiently. 

''Oh,  that  isn't  the  story,"  admitted  Car- 
ton. "  At  least  it 's  only  one  small  end  of  it, 
but  somehow  it  reminded  me  of  myself. 
When  I  gave  up  my  law  business  to  come 
down  here  with  the  Emergency  Fleet  Cor- 
poration, I  expected  Mr.  Schwab  would  call 
me  into  his  office  once  or  twice  a  day  and 
say:  '  Mr.  Carton,  kindly  prepare  a  contract 
for  the  construction  of  this  twenty  thousand 
ton  troopship,'  and  I  would  answer,  '  Leave 
it  to  me,  Mr.  Schwab,  that  troopship  is  as 
good  as  built.'  Then  I  would  dash  back  to 
my  office,  summon  a  stenographer  and  re- 
mark, 'In  consideration  of  the  mutual 
promises  and  agreements  herein  contained, 
it  is  mutually  promised  and  agreed  by  the 
parties  hereto  as  follows:  One  —  The  Blank 
[50] 


SHIPBUILDERS 

Company,  hereinafter  called  the  Contrac- 
tor, shall  build  a  twenty  thousand  ton  troop- 
ship, according  to  the  following  specifi- 
cations, to  wit:  quality  Ai.  Time  P.  D.Q. 
Two  —  The  U.  S.  shall  pay  for  the  same 
if,  as,  and  when  it  sees  fit,'  or  words  to 
that  effect.  Of  course,  Mr.  Schwab  or 
Mr.  Hurley  would  get  the  credit,  but  I 
would  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  I 
had  really  done  the  job." 

"I  wish  you  lawyers  would  draw  con- 
tracts like  that,"  said  Jones  longingly,  "  then 
someone  could  tell  what  you  meant." 

^^Tell  what  we  meant!"  repeated  Carton 
indignantly.  "  What  would  become  of  you 
capable  business  men  without  lawyers,  I  'd 
like  to  know?  You  run  around,  very  busy, 
like  a  lot  of  chickens  with  their  heads 
chopped  off,  and  get  things  in  a  pretty 
tangle;  then  we  come  in  and  smooth  them 
out,  and  before  you  know  it  everything  goes 
like  clock-work." 

^^  Lawyers  are  a  fine  lot,  no  doubt,"  con- 
ceded Jones.  He  paused  a  moment  and 
added,  "I've  always  thought  that  there 
was  only  one  trouble  with  them ;  they  ought 
to  be  put  to  work." 

Carton  did  not  deign  to  notice  the  im- 

[51] 


AT  A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

plication,  but  resumed  his  previous  train 
of  thought. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,"  he  continued, 
"I've  hardly  heard  the  word  ^ship'  men- 
tioned since  I  've  been  here.  What  have  I 
been  doing,  for  instance,  for  the  last  three 
months?  Wrangling  about  car-fares  on 
street  railways,  discussing  feeders,  power- 
houses, loops,  3A  copper  wire,  voltage  and 
what  not.  I  did  n't  know  I  had  signed  on 
to  hunt  tapirs." 

"  It  all  helps,"  observed  Jones  encourag- 
ingly. 

"I  suppose  it  does,"  admitted  Carton, 
"  but  the  house  that  Jack  built  was  nothing 
to  it."  He  tapped  himself  on  the  breast 
and  recited:  "This  is  the  man  that  drew 
the  agreement  that  called  for  the  tracks  that 
carried  the  cars  that  ran  to  the  house  that 
sheltered  the  man  that  drove  the  rivets 
that  held  together  the  wonderful  ship  that 
Schwab  built." 

"YouVe  leaving  out  a  good  deal  at 
that,"  observed  Jones.  "  How  about  sewer- 
age, water,  electric  lights,  and  the  other 
things?" 

"  I  know,"  agreed  Carton.  "  I  was  only 
touching  on  my  personal  endeavors.    Have 

[52] 


SHIPBUILDERS 

you  been  out  to  the  National  Shipbuilding 
Company's  plant  at  Camden  lately?" 

^^Not  for  four  weeks." 

^^  A  lot  can  happen  in  four  weeks  now- 
days.  I  spent  yesterday  morning  there.  I 
did  n't  pay  much  attention  to  the  eight  new 
ways  they  are  putting  in,  because  my  job 
took  me  out  to  the  housing  development. 
They're  building  a  complete  city  two  miles 
back  in  the  country.  It  is  great;  the  neatest 
little  brick  houses  you  ever  saw,  a  church, 
a  community  center  and  a  movie  theatre. 
It  was  an  eye-opener  to  me." 

"There  is  nothing  picayune  about  the 
way  the  U.  S.  is  going  into  the  shipbuilding 
business  certainly,"  agreed  Jones.  "  Go  out 
to  Hog  Island  the  first  chance  you  get." 

"  I  mean  to  if  I  ever  get  your  street  rail- 
way messes  straightened  out.  Is  Barker 
coming  in  this  morning?  " 

Jones  nodded.  "That's  what  I'm  here 
for;  he's  due  now." 

"That  is  the  worst  crowd  weVe  run  up 
against  yet,"  observed  Carton.  "I  am 
afraid  we  shall  have  to  take  over  that  road 
and  run  it." 

"It  will  mean  a  lot  of  lost  time,"  said 
Jones  regretfully,  "but  I  suppose  there  is 

[53] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

no  help  for  it.  They  won't  agree  to  any- 
thing." 

''  Of  course,  the  road  is  in  the  hands  of  a 
Receiver,  and  that  does  make  a  difference," 
said  Carton.  ^^Technically,  at  least,  they 
have  got  to  get  the  court's  consent  to  any- 
thing they  do." 

''  Have  one  more  try  this  morning,  at  any 
rate,"  urged  Jones.  "  If  we  have  to  run  the 
road  ourselves  it  will  delay  matters  three  or 
four  months  at  least." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  followed 
by  the  appearance  of  a  wide  awake  looking 
ofRce  boy  who  said,  "Mr.  Barker  and  Mr. 
Meekin  say  they  have  an  appointment  with 
you,  sir." 

"  Bring  them  up,"  remarked  Carton.  He 
gazed  out  the  window,  down  to  where  the 
City  Hall  of  Philadelphia,  surmounted  by 
the  monster  statue  of  William  Penn,  sprawls 
over  Broad  Street  like  some  uncouth  crea- 
tion of  a  mind  distraught.  To  Carton  it 
suggested  an  illustration  by  Dore  of  a  scene 
in  Dante's  Inferno,  and  a  sigh  of  gloom  es- 
caped his  lips  before  he  turned  to  Jones 
and  said,  "We'll  give  it  to  them  straight 
this  morning  and  get  it  settled  one  way  or 
the  other." 

[54] 


SHIPBUILDERS 

''Mr.  Barker,  Mr.  Meekin,"  announced 
the  office  boy,  throwing  open  the  door. 

A  tall  red-haired  man  with  heavy  mous- 
tache and  snapping  bright  blue  eyes, 
accompanied  by  a  small,  ferret-faced, 
grey-haired  individual,  entered  the  room. 
They  were  the  Receiver  of  the  United 
Service  Street  Railway  Company  of  New 
York  and  his  counsel. 

"  I  wish  it  could  be  arranged,"  said  the 
latter  tartly,  ''  so  that  we  did  n't  have  to  wait 
downstairs  twenty  minutes  when  we  have 
an  appointment  here." 

''I'm  sorry,  Mr.  Meekin,"  said  Carton 
politely,  "  but  I  am  afraid  the  rules  of  the 
Emergency  Fleet  Corporation  can't  be 
altered  for  the  benefit  of  individuals." 

The  two  men  sat  down  and  looked  at 
Carton  with  expressions  of  aggressive 
obstinancy. 

"Well,  what  have  we  got  to  do?"  asked 
Barker  finally,  calling  to  his  aid  the  most 
disagreeable  tones  of  which  he  was  capable. 
"  Tell  us  the  worst  and  get  it  over  with.  If 
the  government  desires  to  impose  such  con- 
ditions on  the  United  Service  Street  Rail- 
way that  it  can  never  get  on  its  feet  again, 
I  suppose  we've  got  to  submit" 

[55] 


AT  A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

"It's  a  funny  thing,"  remarked  Mr. 
Meekin,  his  little  eyes  gleaming  maliciously, 
"The  country  was  told  we  went  into  this 
war  as  a  protest  against  autocracy,  and 
here's  our  own  government  giving  orders 
and  doing  things  never  heard  of  in  a  free 
country.  A  man  can't  call  his  soul  his  own, 
much  less  his  business." 

"And  most  of  the  orders  are  being  given 
by  green  men,  amateurs,  who  have  had  no 
experience,  and  don't  know  what  they  are 
talking  about,"  said  Mr.  Barker  with 
meaning. 

Carton  smiled  pleasantly.  "  I  don't  won- 
der you  gentlemen  are  a  trifle  upset  this 
morning,"  he  said.  "You've  had  a  sur- 
prise, have  n^  you  ?  You  thought  you  could 
go  right  over  the  heads  of  the  Passenger 
Transportation  Division  and  myself,  and 
work  something  with  Mr.  Schwab  directly. 
You  tried  that  yesterday,  and  he  refused  to 
have  anything  to  do  with  you,  and  sent  you 
back  to  us.    That's  a  fact,  isn't  it?" 

"We  are  doing  our  best  to  keep  a  valu- 
able property  committed  to  our  charge  by 
the  court  from  being  ruined,"  said  Mr. 
Meekin  savagely. 

"Stop    this    buncombe     and    hot    air, 

[56] 


SHIPBUILDERS 

Meekin,"  said  Carton  sharply,  "we  have 
had  enough  of  it  and  are  n't  going  to  waste 
time  listening  to  any  more.  We  offer  you  a 
trade  that  is  a  benefit  to  your  road,  and 
you  know  it  as  well  as  I  do.  What  you  want 
is  to  get  more  out  of  the  United  States  than 
you  are  entitled  to.  You  can't  do  it,  and 
you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourselves  for 
wanting  to  do  it." 

"Look  here,"  said  Mr.  Barker,  starting 
up,  "  I  won't  listen  to  this  kind  of  talk! " 

"Oh,  yes,  you  will,"  went  on  Carton,  a 
hard  glint  coming  into  his  eyes.  "You 
would  listen  to  anything  rather  than  have 
that  street  railway  of  yours  taken  out  of 
your  hands.  I  know  you.  You  're  bluffing. 
Now  unless  we  reach  an  agreement  this 
morning  the  Emergency  Fleet  Corporation 
is  going  to  take  the  United  Service  Railway 
Company  and  operate  it  under  the  authority 
of  Section  28  of  the  Emergency  Deficiency 
Act." 

"  Perhaps  the  court  will  have  something 
to  say  to  that,"  suggested  Mr.  Meekin  with 
a  sneer. 

"You  know  more  law  than  that,  Mr. 
Meekin,"  said  Carton  genially.  "The 
court  won't  lift  a  finger  if  we  decide  to 

[57] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

take  the  road.  But  you  Ve  both  made  up 
your  minds  that  you  don't  want  that  done, 
and  are  going  to  reach  an  agreement  pleas- 
antly and  then  urge  the  court  to  confirm  it." 

Barker  and  Meekin  sat  silent. 

^^Why  can't  you  be  nice  and  friendly 
about  it,  the  way  everyone  else  is?"  con- 
tinued Carton.  ''  I  've  put  through  agree- 
ments with  twenty  other  roads,  and  you  are 
the  only  people  who  haven't  been  anxious 
to  cooperate." 

"What  do  you  want  us  to  do?"  repeated 
Mr.  Barker  querulously.  "As  I  said  be- 
fore, tell  us  the  worst." 

"  Oh,  the  worst,  as  you  call  it,"  said  Car- 
ton, "is  good;  really  very  good  indeed. 
The  Blackstone  Shipbuilding  Company, 
the  Brevoot  Windlass  Company  and  the 
Naylor  Construction  Company,  all  located 
at  Holbrook,  N.  Y.,  and  all  building  ships 
for  the  government,  have  taken  on  alto- 
gether,—  how  many  new  men,  Mr.  Jones?" 

"  Roughly,  five  thousand,"  said  Jones, 
"  not  less  at  any  rate." 

"  Have  taken  on  five  thousand  new  men," 
repeated  Carton.  "There  are  no  accom- 
modations for  them  in  Holbrook,  the  town 
is  full,  —  chock-a-block,  —  and  they  have  to 

[58] 


SHIPBUILDERS 

go  to  and  fro  from  S  tough  ton,  Brookfield 
and  Rockbridge,  places  reached  by  the 
United  Service  Railway.  The  men  have 
been  threatening  to  strike  for  the  last  two 
weeks,  because  the  car  service  is  intolerable. 
You  know  how  bad  it  is  better  than  I  can 
tell  you.  Our  experts,  not  amateurs  as  you 
call  them,  but  some  of  the  best  street  rail- 
way men  in  America,  have  been  over  the 
ground  and  decided  what  is  needed.  We 
want  you  to  put  on  twenty-four  new-style 
cars,  equipped  so  they  can  be  operated  in 
trains ;  to  build  turnouts  at  specified  places 
so  you  can  run  more  cars ;  to  increase  your 
power  plant  and  put  in  new  transmission 
lines,  and  —  well,  those  are  the  principal 
things,  but  it 's  all  in  this  contract  which  I 
have  prepared." 

"Where  is  the  money  coming  from?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Meekin. 

"  Don't  play  ignorance,"  said  Carton, 
"the  money  is  coming  from  the  United 
States,  by  way  of  the  Emergency  Fleet 
Corporation;  and  you  are  going  to  pay 
back  only  a  part  of  it,  —  seventy-five  per 
cent.  The  other  quarter  is  a  clear  gift. 
You  have  got  to  give  us  security.  Receiver's 
certificates,  for  the  amount  you  are  to  re- 

[59] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A   YEAR 

turn,  but  the  United  Service  Company  is 
getting  increased  facilities  over  the  bargain 
counter." 

"We  would  rather  not  add  to  the  road's 
obligation,  even  for  a  bargain,"  began  Mr. 
Barker. 

Carton  ignored  the  remark  entirely. 
"Are  you  ready  to  sign?"  he  asked,  in- 
dicating certain  papers  on  his  desk. 

Mr.  Barker  and  Mr.  Meekin  consulted 
apart.  "  We  will  sign,"  said  the  latter,  after 
an  interval  of  five  minutes.  "But  it's  no 
good  unless  the  court  confirms  it." 

"Oh,  we  can  take  care  of  the  court  be- 
tween us,"  observed  Carton  optimistically. 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  said  Mr. 
Meekin.  As  a  busy  street  railway  lawyer 
he  had  engaged  in  too  many  controversies 
to  find  joy  in  prolonging  one  after  it  was 
settled,  and  he  spoke  pleasantly  and  in  good 
faith.  "  You  don't  know  Judge  Hayselden ; 
the  Receivership  is  in  his  court.  He  is  old 
and  fussy  and  fidgety,  and  he  hates  to  take 
the  responsibility  of  letting  a  Receiver  do 
anything.  I  don't  think  he  will  take  kindly 
to  such  an  increase  in  indebtedness,  and  I 
know  he  won't  stand  for  the  issue  of  Re- 
ceiver's certificates." 

[60] 


SHIPBUILDERS 

^^  Is  his  consent  really  necessary?  "  queried 
Jones. 

^^I  am  afraid  it  is,"  admitted  Carton. 
"Look  here,  Meekin,  are  you  going  to  do 
your  best  to  get  the  agreement  confirmed?  " 

Mr.  Meekin  drew  out  his  watch.  "  I  Ve 
given  my  word,"  he  said.  "We've  just  got 
time  to  catch  the  twelve-o'clock  train  back 
to  New  York.  Come  with  me,  and  we'll 
see  him  in  Chambers  this  afternoon." 


II 

Carton  got  back  to  Philadelphia  at  six 
o'clock  that  afternoon  and  went  directly  to 
the  office  of  Mr.  Hodges,  Chief  of  the 
Passenger  Transportation  Division  of  the 
Emergency  Fleet  Corporation.  The  big 
twelve-story  building  was  still  humming 
with  the  industry  of  a  beehive,  although 
under  the  rules  employees  were  permitted 
to  call  it  a  day's  work  when  the  hour  of  five 
o'clock  struck.  Mr.  Hodges  and  his  prin- 
cipal assistant,  Mr.  Jones,  were  sitting  at 
opposite  sides  of  the  large  desk  table,  hard 
at  work  on  a  plan  for  bettering  transporta- 
tion by  ferry  to  a  shipbuilding  plant  on  the 
Great  Lakes. 

[6i] 


AT  A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

"Hullo,  what's  the  good  word?"  asked 
Mr.  Hodges,  looking  up  on  Carton's 
entrance. 

Carton  flung  his  hat  into  a  chair  viciously, 
plumped  down  in  another  himself,  raised 
his  clenched  fists  and  uttered  the  mono- 
syllable "Damn!" 

"Take  it  easy,  old  man,"  remarked  Mr. 
Hodges  genially,  losing  none  of  his  im- 
perturbability. "What's  the  matter?  Did 
Meekin  squeal  on  his  agreement?  " 

"No;  Meekin  was  all  right,  but  that  old 
devil  bird  of  a  Judge!" 

"Wouldn't  he  confirm  the  agreement?" 
asked  Jones.  Carton  gazed  at  the 
speaker,  incredulous  that  he  could  ask 
such    a    question. 

"Confirm  the  agreement?"  he  repeated. 
"  He  almost  committed  me  for  contempt  of 
court.  Said  he  never  heard  of  such  a  prop- 
osition as  permitting  a  road  that  couldn't 
pay  its  present  debts  to  pile  up  more.  Said 
there  was  no  use  bringing  such  nonsense 
before  him.  When  I  told  him  these  were 
war  times,  he  asked  me  if  I  thought  he  was 
going  to  write  himself  down  in  his  court 
records  as  an  ass,  just  because  a  war  was 
going  on."  Carton  paused,  and  then  added 
[62] 


SHIPBUILDERS 

indignantly,  "I  couldn't  budge  the  old 
villain." 

^^  Did  you  tell  him  we  could  take  the  road 
over?"  suggested  Mr.  Jones. 

Carton  laughed.  ^^  I  tried  that  for  all  it 
was  worth,"  he  answered,  "and  it  wasn't 
worth  a  cent.  He  said  that  was  the  best 
thing  we  could  do;  that  it  would  relieve 
him  of  all  responsibility;  in  short,  that  it 
would  suit  him  right  down  to  the  ground." 

"  It  must  be  that  he  does  n't  understand 
this  country  is  actually  in  the  war,"  sug- 
gested Mr.  Hodges  thoughtfully.  "He 
does  n't  realize  it." 

"The  only  way  to  make  him  realize  it," 
said  Carton  with  conviction,  "would  be  to 
ram  him  into  a  ten-inch  gun  and  fire  him  off 
on  the  western  front." 

"How  did  you  leave  matters  with 
Meekin?"  queried  Jones. 

"After  Judge  Hayseiden  had  warned  me 
that  I  mustn't  continue  my  current  line  of 
conversation,  I  asked  for  an  order  of  notice 
so  that  the  matter  could  come  up  in  open 
court,  and  he  would  have  to  go  on  record. 
He  gave  me  one  for  tomorrow  at  eleven, 
but  the  last  thing  he  did  was  to  order 
Meekin  to  bring  in  all  the  cases  he  could 

[63] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

collect  showing  that  courts  had  refused  to 
authorize  agreements  such  as  the  one  we 
submitted." 

"  They  say  there  is  no  sense  in  throwing 
good  money  after  bad,  and  I  don't  see  any 
in  wasting  precious  time  when  it  won't  do 
any  good,"  observed  Mr.  Hodges.  "Why 
not  drop  the  matter  and  start  on  the  other 
tack?  Taking  the  road  over,  I  mean.  It's 
hardly  worth  while  for  you  to  make  another 
trip  to  New  York." 

"  You  are  n't  beaten  until  you  know  you 
are  licked,"  said  Carton  stubbornly.  "I 
shall  go  to  that  hearing  tomorrow.  There 
is  n't  any  law  on  the  matter ;  not  on  our  side, 
at  least.  But  I  shall  do  something;  prob- 
ably argue  on  the  facts  and  broad  grounds 
of  public  policy."  He  smiled  and  added, 
"  And  you  be  ready  to  bail  me  out  in  case 
of  need." 

"Just  as  you  like,"  agreed  Mr.  Hodges. 
He  turned  to  his  chief  assistant.  "  Courts 
are  a  great  help  in  business  matters,  are  n't 
they,  Jones?  Who  was  the  genius  who  spoke 
of  'old  father  antic  the  law'?" 

After  dinner  that  evening,  at  the  small 
house  in  the  country  out  on  "the  main 
line,"  where  he  lived  with  two  other  Fleet 

[64] 


SHIPBUILDERS 

workers,  Carton  took  his  customary  stroll 
around  the  grounds  of  Bryn  Mawr  College. 
The  long,  low-lying  grey-stone  buildings 
with  mullioned  windows  and  covered  with 
ivy  were  as  lovely  as  the  finest  that  Oxford 
could  produce.  Carton  sat  for  an  hour  on 
a  stone  bench  overlooking  acres  of  velvet 
lawn,  deep  in  thought.  He  was  not  engaged 
in  the  preparation  of  his  coming  address  to 
the  Court  on  the  morrow,  but  picturing  in 
his  mind's  eye  scenes  called  up  by  a  letter 
he  had  found  on  his  return  home,  a  letter 
from  a  young  friend  somewhere  in  France. 

Ill 

"The  court,"  announced  the  crier  in 
stentorian  tones.  Counsel  sitting  at  the 
table  inside  the  bar  below  the  clerk's  desk 
rose  and  stood  respectfully  as  Judge  Haysel- 
den,  preceded  by  a  red-faced  court  officer 
in  blue  frock  coat  with  brass  buttons  carry- 
ing a  white  staff,  himself  clad  in  his  black 
robe  of  office,  entered  and  took  his  seat.  He 
was  a  very  old  man,  very  tall  and  very  thin. 
His  white  hair  was  brushed  straight  back 
from  his  high  forehead.  His  keen  eyes  still 
burned  brightly  under  shaggy  eyebrows.. 

[65] 


AT  A  DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

His  manner  was  peremptory  and  his  voice 
sharp  and  clear  as  he  said:  '^  In  the  matter 
of  this  petition  asking  for  confirmation  of 
an  agreement  between  the  United  States  and 
the  Receiver  of  the  United  States  Railway- 
Company,  I  desire  counsel  to  submit  au- 
thorities. Mr.  Meekin,  I  will  hear  from 
you." 

Mr.  Meekin  rose.  He  was  a  little  terrier 
of  a  man,  with  many  of  a  terrier's  pro- 
pensities, but  his  word  once  given  was  as 
good  as  his  bond. 

^^Your  Honor,"  he  said,  "  representing  the 
receiver,  I  assent  to  confirmation  of  the 
agreement." 

"  Have  you  any  cases  where  such  agree- 
ments have  been  sanctioned?" 

^^  I  have  not.  Your  Honor." 

"  Have  you  any  authorities  where  the 
court  has  refused  to  sanction  such  agree- 
ments?" 

Mr.  Meekin  looked  at  Carton. 

"Go  ahead,"  consented  the  latter  in  a 
whisper,  "let  him  have  them." 

Meekin  read  a  list  of  twenty  or  more 

cases,  giving  citations  and  brief  abstracts 

as  he  went  along.     As  the  weight  of  the 

law  piled  up  against  him.  Carton  became 

[66] 


SHIPBUILDERS 

slightly  restive.  The  argument  he  had  care- 
fully been  thinking  out  on  the  train  from 
Philadelphia,  began  to  seem  too  weak  even 
for  utterance.  Unconsciously  his  hand 
slipped  into  the  side  pocket  of  his  coat,  and 
his  fingers  closed  on  the  letter  he  had  re- 
ceived the  previous  evening. 

''Mr.  Carton,"  said  His  Honor,  "if  you 
have  any  authorities  to  submit,  you  may  do 
so." 

"I  have  something  to  submit,  Your 
Honor,"  said  Carton,  rising. 

''What  is  the  citation?"  asked  the  Judge, 
as  he  dipped  his  pen  in  the  ink  before  him. 

"  It  is  not  in  the  books.  Your  Honor." 

"Some  decision  not  yet  reported?"  de- 
manded the  Judge. 

"  It  is  not  a  decision,  Your  Honor.  It  is 
a  letter  which  I  received  last  night  from  a 
young  friend  of  mine  in  France." 

The  Judge  looked  at  Carton  sternly.  "  I 
allow  great  latitude  to  counsel  in  this  court," 
he  remarked,  "but  — "  He  paused,  then 
threw  himself  back  in  his  chair  and  added, 
"  Proceed." 

"The  letter  is  dated  June  loth,"  said 
Carton.  ^^It  is  as  follows."  He  read 
slowly ; 

[67] 


AT  A  DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

Dear  Mr.  Carton: 

Please  pardon  this  paper  —  it 's  all  I  have 
just  now.  How  time  slips  by  in  an  unbelievable 
way.  It  seems  hardly  possible  that  it  was  over 
a  year  ago  that  you  recommended  me  for  the 
training  camp.  I  confess  things  have  moved 
with  startling  rapidity;  much  quicker  than  any 
of  us  anticipated. 

I  got  your  good  letter  and  mighty  glad  I  was 
to  hear  from  you.  You  don't  know  what  it 
means  to  get  news  from  home.  I  am  glad  you 
have  gone  in  for  war  work  and  think  the  Ship- 
ping Board  must  be  very  interesting.  I  was 
talking  with  my  Colonel  the  other  day,  and  he 
said  Gen.  Pershing  declared  at  a  meeting  of 
officers  recently  that  we  would  be  able  to  walk 
right  through  the  Germans  next  year  if  we  could 
get  enough  men  and  supplies  across  the  water, 
and  that  the  great  need  of  the  war  now  was 
ships,  and  more  ships.  So  you  see  you  can  feel 
you  Ve  got  a  hand  in  what  over  here  is  re- 
garded as  of  perhaps  first  importance. 

But,  speaking  generally,  I  can't  help  feeling 
that  not  all  the  people  at  home  realize  the  true 
state  of  affairs  or  understand  what  is  going  on. 
I  often  wonder  just  what  there  is  that  will  get  it 
across  to  the  folks  in  the  States.  Beyond  a  de- 
pression in  business,  some  inconvenience  and  a 
few  personal  links  here  and  there,  what  does 
it  mean?  I  don't  know.  And  I'm  searching 
every  scrap  of  information  I  can  get  to  find 
out.    All  of  us  are.    So  are  the  French. 

The  Germans  are  not  beaten.  Do  you  realize 

[68] 


SHIPBUILDERS 

that?  And  do  all  the  people  at  home  realize 
It?  They  must  before  we  can  come  out  of  this 
war  victorious.  The  power  of  Germany's  mili- 
tary machine,  the  strength  of  its  organization, 
is  something  you  have  got  to  see  and  feel  be- 
fore you  can  grasp  the  terror  of  it.  I  don't 
mean  we  are  afraid,  not  even  I  am  that.  But 
I  Ve  just  come  back  to  a  rest  camp  from  two 
weeks  in  the  front  trenches,  and  the  threat  of 
the  Hun  hordes  won't  let  me  sleep  at  night. 
We  were  in  a  sector  where  the  German  trenches 
were  very  close  to  ours.  We  could  feel  them 
there  all  the  time,  like  some  evil  presence,  and 
one  day  they  came  over  the  top  at  us,  wave 
after  wave  of  silent  grey-clad  men.  It  was  not 
like  anything  human.  It  was  a  miasma,  a  mist, 
a  noxious  vapor  let  loose  to  corrupt  and  destroy 
the  world.  We  managed  to  hold  our  ground, 
but  it  was  truly  some  job.  Tom  Meany  was 
killed,  blown  to  pieces  in  the  preliminary  bar- 
rage; and  Bill  Simpkins,  you  know  them  both. 
Simpkins  was  bayoneted  through  the  breast, 
after  he  had  done  for  three  of  the  Fritzes.  I 
got  out  without  a  scratch.  I  can't  wait  to  go 
back  again,  —  honestly.  I  want  to  live  as  much 
as  anyone,  but  I  'd  die  a  thousand  times  rather 
than  have  that  wicked  nightmare  of  German 
militarism  impose  its  rule  on  the  world.  That 
has  got  to  be  stopped;  and  nothing  else  matters, 
nothing  else  in  the  world.  I  'm  afraid  you  '11 
think  I  am  talking  heroics,  but  you  wouldn't 
if  you  were  here.  It  is  merely  the  way  every- 
one of  us  feels.     I  have  lived  for  a  long  while 

[69] 


AT  A  DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

in  all  this.  For  some  months  I  have  really 
never  been  out  of  earshot  of  the  guns,  and  have 
been  in  a  part  of  France  where  one  never  sees  a 
smile.  Nothing  exists  but  war,  not  one  smallest 
detail  of  life  is  free  from  the  blight  of  it.  It  is 
tremendously  depressing  and  all  very  pitiful; 
crops  ripening  and  being  burnt  up  by  shells  and 
killed  by  gas;  villages  shot  to  pieces  and  melt- 
ing away  into  bits  of  filth  and  rubbish;  old 
people  carrying  a  few  possessions  and  wander- 
ing from  village  to  village,  without  any  special 
hope  or  plan. 

I  like  to  think  that  nothing  that  can  speed  up 
the  machinery  and  grease  the  wheels  is  being  left 
undone.  Occasionally  one  reads  of  strikes,  and 
I  Ve  often  wished  that  the  promoters  of  same 
could  be  here,  just  for  a  few  days,  just  long 
enough  to  know  what  it  means  and  long  enough 
to  see  and  appreciate  the  infinite  possibilities  of 
being  thrown  away  through  a  slip  of  the  cogs 
at  home. 

Write  me  again  soon,  and  I  'II  answer  it,  — 
if  I  can. 

Yours  as  always, 

Henry  Lyall. 

P.S.     Hurry  up  those  ships,  old  man. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  in  the  court- 
room. 

*^  Mr.  Carton,"  said  the  Judge,  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  opposite  vv^all  where  hung  the 
arms  of  the  United  States,  ^^have  you  pre- 
pared a  decree?" 

[70] 


SHIPBUILDERS 

"  I  have,  Your  Honor,"  said  Carton. 

*^Mr.  Meekin,"  continued  the  court,  *^do 
you  wish  to  examine  the  decree  before  I 
allow  it?" 

Meekin  rose  and  blew  his  nose  violently. 
^^  As  counsel  for  the  Receiver,  Your  Honor," 
he  said,  in  a  voice  which  broke  a  little, 
''  I  urge  the  allowance  of  any  decree  in  be- 
half of  the  United  States  which  Mr.  Carton 
has  prepared." 

''  That  is  well,"  said  the  Judge. 

He  took  the  paper  passed  up  to  him  by 
the  Clerk,  and  the  pen  scratched  as  his 
trembling  old  fingers  affixed  his  signature. 

^'  Mr.  Clerk,  that  is  entered  as  of  today." 

The  old  Judge  rose  from  his  chair  and 
stood  erect,  gathering  the  folds  of  his  gown 
around  his  spare  figure.  ^'  Mr.  Carton," 
he  said,  with  eyes  still  fixed  on  the  seal 
of  his  country,  ^^when  you  answer  that 
letter,  — "  he  paused,  and  the  thin  old  lips 
trembled  so  that  for  the  moment  he  could 
not  go  on.  '^  When  you  answer  the  letter," 
he  resumed,  ^^  tell  that  boy  that  the  people 
over  here,  even  the  worn-out  old  fossils,  are 
beginning  to  understand." 

The  Judge  stood  silent  for  a  moment. 
He  lowered  his  gaze  from  the  opposite  wall 

[71] 


AT  A  DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

and  his  eyes  flashing,  sought  those  of  Car- 
ton.   He  smiled  whimsically. 

'^  Hurry  up  those  ships,  old  man,"  he  said. 
^^  Mr.  Crier,  adjourn  the  court." 


ONE  HUNDRED  AND  FOURTEEN 
IN  THE  SHADE 


ONE  HUNDRED  AND  FOURTEEN 
IN  THE  SHADE 

MAJOR  MiXTER  of  the  Signal  Corps 
lived  in  a  fine  house  on  New 
Hampshire  Avenue.  It  was  one 
of  the  few  residences  in  the  heart  of  Wash- 
ington which  had  a  garden  of  its  own.  The 
garden  ran  along  one  side  of  the  house  and 
reaching  to  the  sidewalk  was  there  ter- 
minated by  a  tall  fence  with  iron  railings. 
What  rent  the  Major  paid  was  the  business 
of  nobody  but  himself,  but  it  was  sufficient. 
The  congressional  resolution  against  rent 
profiteering  was  not  of  much  help  to  the 
wealthy  sojourner  doing  war  work  in  Wash- 
ington, whether  in  the  Service  or  out  of  it; 
very  likely  it  was  not  intended  to  be  so. 
Stockdale  was  dining  with  Major  Mixter 
that  August  evening.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
he  had  got  far  beyond  the  point  of  caring 
with  whom  he  dined,  or  whether  he  dined  at 
all.  For  three  days  the  thermometer  had 
ranged  from  105  to  1 14  degrees  in  the  shade, 

[75] 


AT  A  DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

and  that  afternoon  in  Stockdale's  office  it 
had  touched  120. 

At  ten  minutes  to  eight  Stockdale  called 
a  cab,  gave  the  address  to  the  shirt-sleeved 
driver  and  sank  back  on  the  seat  in  a  state 
v^hich  bordered  on  frenzy.  The  heat  from 
the  asphalt  pavements  flew  up  and  struck 
him  in  the  face  like  a  blow.  His  eyes 
burned  as  with  a  fever,  and  he  closed  them 
tightly.  In  air  reeking  with  humidity  he 
panted  for  breath. 

Presently  the  cab  stopped.  Stockdale 
opened  his  eyes  and  got  out. 

"Tough  weather,"  he  remarked  to  the 
driver,  as  he  handed  over  a  generous  tip  in 
addition  to  the  fare  demanded. 

"  Good  Lord,"  said  the  driver,  wiping  his 
brow  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  "  it's  awful. 
I  haven't  slept  two  hours  the  last  three 
nights." 

^*Me  too,"  observed  Stockdale  sympa- 
thetically. "Take  care  of  yourself  now, 
and  don't  get  knocked  out  for  the  sake  of 
a  few  dollars." 

"  I  won't,"  said  the  driver  with  emphasis. 
"  I  'm  through  for  the  day.    Good-night." 

There  was  not  much  of  liberty  or  equality 
during  the  hot  days  of  the  summer  of  191 8 

[76] 


ONE   HUNDRED   AND   FOURTEEN 

in  Washington  perhaps,  but  there  was  a 
wide-spread  feeling  of  genuine  fraternity 
among  fellow  sufferers  of  all  sorts  and 
classes. 

Stockdale  handed  his  hat  to  the  butler 
who  opened  the  door,  and  proceeded  up- 
stairs to  the  library.  He  found  himself  one 
of  a  party  of  six.  There  was  his  host,  his 
host's  two  house  guests,  —  Lieut.  William 
Eccles,  U.  S.  N.,  and  Reginald  Barton  of 
our  diplomatic  corps,  who  was  awaiting  in 
Washington  orders  from  the  State  Depart- 
ment which  should  send  him  to  his  new  post 
as  Minister  to  Bolivia;  then  there  was  Col. 
Colt  of  the  Ordnance  Department,  and 
Major  Wargrave,  a  British  Staff  Officer  on 
duty  in  Washington  as  a  member  of  the 
British  Military  Mission. 

^^ We've  just  got  to  take  it  as  a  joke," 
Mixter  was  saying.  "You  can't  look  on  it 
as  anything  else.  It's  the  record  for  Wash- 
ington, and  Washington  is  supposed  to  be 
only  separated  from  hell  by  a  piece  of  brown 
paper  in  Summer  at  any  time.  Did  you 
know  that  the  automatic  sprinklers  in  three 
different  buildings  were  set  off  by  the  heat 
this  afternoon?  That's  something  to  write 
home  to  the  family!    Take  off  your  coat, 

[77] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

Stockdale;  this  is  no  night  for  ceremony; 
glad  to  see  you.  We  '11  have  a  little  bridge 
after  dinner,  and  forget  it." 

^^  How  do,  Mixter,"  said  Stockdale,  shak- 
ing hands,  ^' I '11  do  just  that,  and  roll  up 
my  sleeves  too  if  you  don't  mind." 

^^  Go  as  far  as  you  like,"  answ^ered  his  host 
genially.  ^^We'll  all  strip  to  the  buff  be- 
fore we  get  through."  He,  Eccles  and 
Barton,  as  well  as  Stockdale,  were  clad  in 
white  flannel  trousers,  white  shirts  and  no 
coats.  Colt,  having  had  to  pass  through 
the  streets,  had  not  dared  to  do  so  without 
being  in  uniform,  and  Major  Wargrave 
had  thought  it  would  not  be  proper  to  bring 
mufti  to  this  country,  though  since  his  ar- 
rival here  he  had  learned  better  as  to  that 
and  other  things. 

"  Dinner  is  served,  Major,"  said  the  butler, 
appearing  at  the  double  door  opening  into 
the  hall. 

"All  right,  Kenny,"  said  Major  Mixter. 
"  Wait  a  moment."  He  turned  to  his  guests. 
"Cocktails?" 

"Lord,  no!"  came  an  answering  chorus, 
followed  by  exclamations.  "  Cocktails  on 
a  night  like  this ! "  and  "  Not  on  your  life ! " 

"I   thought  not,"  said  Mixter,  "that's 

[78] 


ONE   HUNDRED   AND   FOURTEEN 

why  I  did  n't  have  them  ready.  Come  on, 
Wargrave,  a  bit  to  eat  will  buck  us  up." 

^^I  recollect  crossing  the  African  desert 
one  summer,"  said  Barton,  lighting  a  cigar- 
ette after  the  first  course  of  cold  bouillon 
had  been  taken  away,  '^  and  the  heat  from 
the  sands  came  up  and  biffed  you  just 
the  way  it  does  on  the  streets  here  today." 
He  paused  and  inhaled  a  breath  of  cig- 
arette smoke  before  going  on.  ^^  But  the 
difference  is,  it  rather  cooled  off  at  night 
on  the  desert,  while  here  it  works  up  to  a 
climax." 

^^What  else  are  we  having  for  dinner, 
Kenny,"  asked  Major  Mix ter,  as  soft  shelled 
crabs  were  put  on  the  table.  The  butler 
coughed  behind  his  hand  in  apologetic 
fashion.    ''  Well,  Sir,"  he  said,  "  roast  beef." 

"  Roast  beef,"  exclaimed  Mixter,  "  I  can't 
bear  it!" 

'^  I  should  say  not,"  agreed  Eccles.  He 
was  Mixter's  intimate  friend,  and  had  lived 
with  him  since  their  wives  had  departed 
from  Washington  in  the  late  Spring,  and 
consequently  felt  quite  at  home.  "Isn't 
there  anything  else  in  the  house?" 

"  For  God's  sake,  Kenny,  ask  the  cook  to 
dig  up  something  cool,  or  something  light 

[79] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

anyhow,"  said  Major  Mixter.  He  turned 
to  his  guests.  ^^  As  a  Maine  guide  of  mine 
once  remarked,  '  If  we  had  some  ham  we 
could  have  some  ham  and  eggs,  if  we  had 
some  eggs.' " 

Stockdale  grinned  appreciatively.  "  Was 
that  the  guide  who  after  coming  out  second 
best  in  an  encounter  with  a  fox  said,  ^  By 
golly,  that  fellow  is  well  named ! '  " 

For  a  moment  Major  Wargrave  looked  a 
trifle  bewildered  at  the  laugh  that  ensued, 
then  his  face  beamed  with  smiles  and  he 
said :  "  By  Jove,  you  know,  I  never  thought 
of  that  before.  Clever  chap  that  guide. 
I  Ve  hunted  at  home  since  I  was  a  youngster, 
and  the  fox  is  a  deucedly  well-named  ani- 
mal. Full  of  tricks,  you  know,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing." 

"  Carry  on,"  said  Stockdale,  in  a  whisper, 
to  Eccles  who  sat  next  to  him. 

"  I  '11  do  my  bit,"  answered  Eccles  in  the 
same  tone.  He  turned  a  serious  face  to 
Wargrave  and  remarked,  ^^  Quite  right. 
Major,  foxes  are  subtle  creatures." 

"  Clever  chap  that  guide,"  repeated  War- 
grave  with  conviction. 

'^  When  do  you  expect  to  go  over?  "  asked 
Mixter,  turning  to  Colt.  '^  Soon,  isn't  it?" 
[80] 


ONE   HUNDRED   AND   FOURTEEN 

^^  Goodness  knows,"  answered  the  Colonel. 
*^I  had  my  orders  three  weeks  ago.  Got 
everything  ready;  said  farewell  to  my 
family;  got  as  far  as  the  pier  at  Hoboken, 
when  I  was  handed  orders  bringing  me 
back  here." 

^^  Did  you  really  get  to  Hoboken?  "  asked 
Eccles,  who  had  just  been  promoted  to  the 
rank  of  full  Lieutenant  from  that  of  Lieu- 
tenant Junior  Grade.  ^^  That  is  a  good  deal 
nearer  the  sea  than  I  Ve  got." 

Mixter  suddenly  stared  with  set  gaze  at 
the  row  of  windows  opening  on  to  the 
garden.  ^^  Hold  up  a  minute,"  he  said  in 
tones  of  tense  excitement,  "  I  think  I  see 
some  air  stirring." 

Six  pairs  of  eyes  concentrated  on  the 
muslin  window  curtains.  "  That  one  moved 
a  little  bit;"  exclaimed  Stockdale.  ^^  I  saw 
it." 

Barton  rose  and  peered  out  the  window. 
'^  False  alarm,"  he  remarked,  turning  back 
after  a  prolonged  inspection.  "There's 
not  a  leaf  stirring.  It  looks  as  though  we 
might  have  a  thunder  storm  though." 

"  Good  Lord,  then  it  really  will  begin  to 
heat  up,"  observed  Eccles  in  despairing 
tones. 

[8i] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

"  Begin  to  heat  up?  "  asked  Major  War- 
grave  incredulously. 

Colt  turned  to  him.  "You  see,"  he  ex- 
plained, "thunder  storms  in  Washington 
don't  cool  the  air  the  way  they  do  in  other 
places.  They  just  suck  out  the  last  remain- 
ing bit  of  life  there  is  in  it,  and  leave  you 
in  a  sort  of  vacuum." 

"Ah,  I  see,"  said  Wargrave.  He  did  not 
look  wholly  happy.  "Haven't  I  heard," 
he  went  on  with  considerable  pertinence, 
"  that  you  Americans  call  the  British  cli- 
mate beastly?" 

"Very  well  put,  old  fellow,"  ad- 
mitted Mixter,  "you've  got  us  this  time. 
Kenny,  bring  the  coflfee  and  cigars  to  the 
library." 

"No  bridge  for  me,"  observed  Stockdale, 
throwing  himself  at  full  length  on  one  of 
the  three  huge  chintz-covered  sofas  in  the 
enormous  library.  "I've  had  a  hard  day. 
Old  Gish  kept  me  going  over  contracts 
until  six-thirty." 

"  Nor  for  me  either,"  said  Eccles,  light- 
ing a  cigar  and  sinking  into  a  big  easy-chair. 
"  I  prefer  to  meditate." 

"It's  a  bad  habit,"  said  Mixter,  "but  it 
leaves  things  cosy  and  comfortable  for  the 
[82] 


ONE   HUNDRED   AND   FOURTEEN 

rest  of  us.  Cut  for  partners.  You  and  I, 
Wargrave;  and  it's  Colt's  deal." 

For  an  hour  the  game  went  on.  Thunder 
rumbled,  lightning  flashed,  and  presently 
the  rain  began  to  come  down. 

^^  If  I  could  only  have  a  cold  bath  once  a 
day,"  observed  Eccles  in  dreamy  tones,  **  I 
believe  I  would  get  along  finely." 

Major  Wargrave  looked  up  from  his 
cards  with  sudden  interest.  ^^  By  Jove,"  he 
remarked,  ^^  that's  perfectly  right.  The 
cold  water  in  my  tub  runs  tepid ;  absolutely 
tepid,  you  know." 

^^Of  course  it  does,"  said  Mixter. 
^^ There's  no  such  thing  as  cold  water  in 
Washington  in  summer.  It's  either  hot  or 
lukewarm." 

Eccles  strolled  to  the  window  and  looked 
out.  ^^I  say.  Jack,"  he  observed,  "those 
bushes  by  the  garden  fence  look  as  though 
they  were  about  six  feet  high." 

''Well,  what  of  it?"  demanded  Mixter, 
who  was  playing  both  hands  in  a  no 
trumper. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  can  see  into  the 
garden  from  the  street,"  continued  Eccles, 
still  looking  out,  ''at  least  not  unless  you 
get  up  on  a  ladder." 

[83] 


AT  A  DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

"What  of  it?"  repeated  Mixter. 

Eccles  walked  over  to  Stockdale.  "  Want 
to  have  a  cold  bath,"  he  asked;  "that  is, 
reasonably  cold?" 

Stockdale  swung  himself  up  to  a  sitting 
position.     "Where?"  he  demanded. 

"In  the  garden,"  answered  Eccles,  show- 
ing a  certain  amount  of  excitement.  "  We  '11 
go  out  and  stand  round  in  the  rain  and  get 
cooled  off  and  refreshed  and  so  forth." 

"  I  'm  with  you,"  said  Stockdale,  rising  to 
his  feet. 

"They  won't  really  do  it,  will  they?" 
asked  Wargrave  of  Mixter  in  low  tones. 

"Highly  likely,  I  think,"  returned  the 
other  aloud.  "  These  navy  men  are  full  of 
deviltry,  you  know." 

"That's  all  right.  Jack,"  remarked 
Eccles,  wagging  his  head,  "  don't  you  worry ; 
it's  not  your  party,  you  know.  You  all 
stay  right  here  and  sweat;  it's  fine  for  you." 

He  pressed  the  electric  bell  and  the  butler 
appeared.  "  Bring  two  bath-towels  down  to 
the  hall  below,  Kenny,"  he  said  briskly. 
"  Come  on,  Stockdale." 

The  two  descended  the  stairs,  undressed 
with  great  rapidity  and  stepped  out  through 
the  door-window  into  the  garden.    There 

[84] 


ONE   HUNDRED   AND   FOURTEEN 

was  silence  for  a  few  moments,  and  then 
Stockdale  observed,  ^^It  is  rather  cool, — 
what  there  is  of  it." 

''  What  there  is  of  it,  is  right,"  answered 
Eccles,  who  stood  with  hands  on  knees  and 
back  arched,  in  an  endeavor  to  expose  as 
wide  an  area  of  his  person  as  possible  to  the 
elements,  ^^but  what's  the  matter?"  He 
gazed  skyward.  ^^It's  raining  hard  and 
yet  the  drops  seem  to  dodge  me." 

^^  Perhaps  we  are  n't  in  far  enough,"  sug- 
gested Stockdale.  ^^  You  have  to  wade  out, 
you  know,  to  get  wet  all  over." 

"Let's  take  hold  of  hands  and  jump  up 
and  down,  the  way  the  old  ladies  do  when 
they're  about  knee  deep,"  said  Eccles. 

''  Bully  idea,"  agreed  Stockdale.  "  I  bet 
that  will  do  the  business." 

The  two  clasped  hands  and,  alternately 
squatting  and  rising,  danced  over  a  con- 
siderable extent  of  the  garden's  surface. 

"  ^Now  we  go  round  the  mulberry  bush,'" 
sang  Stockdale.  "Are  you  getting  wet,  old 
top?" 

"My  back  is  damp,"  exclaimed  Stock- 
dale  exultantly.  "Upsy  daisy,  now,  here 
comes  a  big  one." 

"A  mighty  good  swim,"  said  Stockdale 

[  85  ] 


AT   A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

five  minutes  later.    ^^  I  'm  wet  and  I  'm  cool ; 
that  is,"  he  added,  ^^  moderately  so." 

"What  did  I  tell  you! "  exclaimed  Eccles 
triumphantly,  as  he  rubbed  himself  vigor- 
ously with  a  huge  crash  towel.  "  Put  your 
trust  in  a  light-hearted  sailor  man  and  you 
can't  go  far  wrong. 

"  '  There 's  a  sweet  little  cherub 
Who  sits  up  aloft 
To  look  out  for  the  life  of  poor  Jack!  '  *' 

The  two  dressed  leisurely  and  ascended 
to  the  library  in  time  to  hear  a  vigorous 
ring  at  the  front  doorbell. 

In  a  moment  or  two  Kenny  appeared  and 
said:  "Captain  Black  arid  Captain  White 
of  the  Army  Intelligence  Department  to 
see  you.  Major." 

"Bring  'em  up,"  said  Mixter,  shuffling 
the  cards  for  the  next  deal. 

"Who  are  they?  Do  you  know  them. 
Jack?"  queried  Eccles. 

"  I  know  lots  of  people,"  answered  Mix- 
ter enigmatically,  "  lots  and  lots  of  people." 

Captain  Black  and  Captain  White  ap- 
peared in  the  doorway,  two  young  men  in 
uniform,  twenty-three  or  twenty-four  years 
old. 

[86] 


ONE   HUNDRED   AND   FOURTEEN 

^^Come  in,"  called  Major  Mixter  over 
his  shoulder.  ^'  Excuse  me  for  not  getting 
up ;  but,  as  you  see,  I  'm  in  the  middle  of  a 
game.  Make  yourself  at  home.  Will  you 
have  something  to  smoke?" 

Captain  White  and  Captain  Black  en- 
tered the  room,  but  stood  erect  near  the 
door.  Each  was  perspiring  profusely,  but 
both  looked  keen  and  intent  on  the  business 
in  hand.  "  Major  Mixter,"  said  the  latter, 
^^we  came  in  to  ask  permission  to  search 
your  house."  His  tone  was  courteous,  but 
it  implied  very  clearly  that  if  the  permis- 
sion were  not  forthcoming  the  representa- 
tives of  the  Intelligence  Department  could 
get  along  very  well  without  it. 

*^  Search  away,"  assented  Mixter  coolly, 
though  he  raised  his  eye-brows  a  trifle.  ''  Is 
it  fair  to  ask  what  you  are  looking  for?" 

Captain  White  and  Captain  Black  con- 
sulted in  undertones.  Captain  White  spoke. 
''  I  don't  believe  there  is  any  harm  in  saying 
we  're  after  two  escaped  German  prisoners. 
They  got  away  from  Camp  Meigs  this 
afternoon." 

^^  Camp  Meigs,"  observed  Mixter  thought- 
fully. ^^ That's  just  on  the  outskirts  of 
Washington,  is  n't  it?" 

[87] 


AT  A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

"  It  is,"  said  Captain  Black,  taking  up  th,e 
tale.  ^^  These  two  men  passed  the  guard 
somehow  or  other,  and  cleared  out,  leav- 
ing their  clothes  behind  them,  —  to  avoid 
recognition,  we  suppose.  It  is  believed  they 
are  somewhere  in  this  city." 

"What,  without  clothes?"  demanded 
Mixter. 

"  It  seems  incredible,"  admitted  Captain 
White,  "^but  there's  no  doubt  they  left 
everything;  and  the  point  is,  that  Captain 
Black  and  I  are  sure  we  saw  two  naked  men 
in  your  garden  not  half  an  hour  ago." 

Major  Wargrave  started  to  say  some- 
thing, but  he  was  interrupted  by  Stockdale, 
whose  trained  legal  instinct  had  already 
scented  trouble  ahead.  "What  makes  you 
think  these  men  you  saw  in  Major  Mixter's 
garden,  if  you  saw  any,  were  your  Ger- 
mans?" he  asked. 

"Who  else  could  it  have  been?"  de- 
manded Captain  Black,  with  some  heat. 
"Who  else  would  make  such  a  display  of 
themselves?" 

"There's  a  city  ordinance  against  that 
sort  of  thing,"  went  on  Captain  White.  "  It 
provides  the  penalty  of  a  jail  sentence,  with- 
out option  of  a  fine.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
[88] 


ONE   HUNDRED   AND   FOURTEEN 

our  Department  has  orders  to  assist  in  the 
enforcement  of  all  local  ordinances,  and  if 
these  men  weren't  the  Germans,  well  — 
we're  after  them  just  the  same.  However, 
we  believe  they  were  the  Germans.  No  one 
else  would  take  such  a  risk,  would  they?" 

^^  I  should  say  not,"  agreed  Stockdale 
emphatically.  He  darted  a  vicious  glance 
at  Eccles.  ''  No  one  but  an  idiot  would  even 
suggest  doing  such  a  thing." 

Eccles,  as  he  himself  had  already  hinted, 
had  not  reached  any  nearer  to  a  quarter- 
deck than  the  corner  of  17th  and  G  Streets, 
but  the  fine  traditions  of  the  American 
Navy  stood  him  in  good  stead. 

"Now  you  speak  of  it,"  he  said,  mean- 
while surreptitiously  mopping  his  damp  hair 
with  his  handkerchief,  "  I  think  I  saw  some- 
thing of  the  kind  you  mention  myself.  Only 
I  did  n't  see  but  one  man.  He  seemed  to  be 
performing  a  curious  sort  of  antics.  You 
remember  I  spoke  to  you  about  it.  Stock- 
dale?" 

Stockdale  hesitated  the  fraction  of  a  sec- 
ond before  he  replied :  "  That 's  so,  you  did ; 
and  I  saw  one  man  myself;  silly  looking  ass 
he  was,  too,  as  far  as  I  could  make  out." 

"  But  we  're  sure  there  were  two  men," 

[89] 


AT  A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

exclaimed    Captains    White     and     Black 
together. 

"  Do  you  see  any  escaped  Germans  in  this 
room?"  queried  Mixter. 

''  Oh,  no !  Major,"  Captain  Black  hastened 
to  disclaim.  ^^We  didn't  expect  to  find 
them  in  this  room.  We  thought  they  might 
have  got  into  the  servants'  quarters  down- 
stairs. We  have  found  pro-Germans 
among  servants  occasionally." 

^^  By  Jove,"  exclaimed  Major  Wargrave 
in  heartfelt  tones,  ^4hat's  right;  rout  the 
beggars  out."  He  went  on  with  his  deal, 
but  was  heard  to  mutter  disjointedly  the 
words,  ^^Damn  Sein  Feiners,"  "Rotters" 
and  "  Coercion  of  Ulster." 

"Well,  search  the  whole  house,"  said 
Major  Mixter.  "Or,  wait  a  minute,  I'll 
have  my  butler  up.  He 's  been  with  me  ten 
years,  and  I  trust  him  absolutely.  Ring  the 
bell,  will  you,  Billy?" 

Lieut.  Eccles  crossed  the  room  and 
pressed  the  electric  button.  He  stood  by 
the  door  until  the  butler  appeared  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs,  and  saluted  that  faithful 
serving  man  with  such  a  series  of  winks, 
frowns  and  nods  as  caused  the  latter  to 
enter  the  room  with  trembling  trepidation. 

[90] 


ONE   HUNDRED   AND   FOURTEEN 

^'  Kenny,"  said  Major  Mixter,  ''  have  you 
two  naked  men  in  the  kitchen?" 

The  butler  stared  at  his  employer  in 
amazement.  Then  a  happy  thought  oc- 
curred to  him,  and  his  usual  placid  expres- 
sion returned.  Of  course,  it  was  natural 
enough  that  the  heat  of  the  last  few  days 
had  been  too  much  for  the  Major  and  had 
addled  his  brains  temporarily. 

^^No,  Major,"  he  began  soothingly. 
^*No,  Major,  I  haven't  a  naked  man  nor 
a  naked  wom — " 

^^That  will  do,  Kenny,"  said  Major 
Mixter  sharply.  ^^  I  'm  asking  about  two 
escaped  German  prisoners,  —  men,"  he 
added  with  emphasis. 

The  butler's  perplexity  returned  in  full 
flood.  He  stood  speechless,  his  eyes  roving 
about  the  room. 

^^  Did  you  see  anything  unusual  in  the 
garden  within  the  last  hour?"  demanded 
Captain  White,  in  tones  of  stern  cross- 
examination. 

Kenny's  roving  eye  happened  to  catch 
that  of  Stockdale,  and  was  arrested  in  its 
course.  An  emphatic  shake  of  the  head  on 
the  part  of  the  latter,  accompanied  by  a  wink, 
seemed  to  furnish  him  with  a  ray  of  light. 

[91] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

"Well,  Sir,"  said  the  butler,  who  had 
been  a  fascinated  spectator  of  the  bathing 
scene  from  the  vantage  point  of  the  dining- 
room  window,  "  about  half  or  three  quarters 
of  an  hour  ago  I  did  seem  to  see  something 
kind  of  white  and  glistening  in  the  garden, 
but  I  took  it  to  be  only  a  shadder." 

"  But,  are  there  any  strangers  down- 
stairs?" demanded   Major  Mixter. 

"No,  Sir,  not  a  stranger,"  responded 
Kenny  promptly,  and  with  obvious  veracity, 
"  not  a  stranger,  man,  woman,  child,  dog  or 
cat." 

"Will  you  look  for  yourselves?"  asked 
the  Major  politely. 

Captain  White  and  Captain  Black  again 
consulted  in  an  undertone.  "Thank  you. 
Major,"  said  the  latter,  "  we  're  quite  satis- 
fied those  Germans  aren't  here." 

"  If  they  were  in  the  garden,"  went  on 
Mixter,  "they  probably  escaped  through 
the  stables  at  the  back." 

"  Of  course,  I  don't  want  to  put  my  oar 
in  if  it's  not  wanted,"  suggested  Lieut. 
Eccles,  whose  spirits  had  begun  to  soar. 
"  I  shouldn't  say  a  word  if  I  hadn't  talked 
a  lot  with  one  of  our  naval  intelligence 
officers  who  has  given  me  some  valuable 

[92] 


ONE   HUNDRED   AND   FOURTEEN 

pointers  about  this  sort  of  thing.  Now  I 
don't  believe  myself  that  two  men  without 
clothes  would  stay  very  long  in  the  centre 
of  Washington,  even  if  they  were  Germans. 
From  what  this  naval  intelligence  sharp  has 
told  me  about  escapes  and  all  that,  I  reason 
these  men  would  try  to  get  out  of  town 
where  they  could  perhaps  borrow  or  steal 
some  clothes."  He  paused  and  observed 
that  Captain  White  and  Captain  Black  were 
listening  with  profound  attention.  ^^  My 
advice,"  he  went  on  modestly,  "  such  as  it 
is  and  for  what  it  is  worth,  is  to  look  for 
them  down  on  the  docks  by  the  river." 

Captain  White  turned  to  Captain  Black. 
"Not  a  bad  idea,  I  think?" 

"A  very  good  one,"  assented  Captain 
Black  heartily. 

"  One  moment,"  said  Stockdale.  "  I  don't 
wish  to  seem  to  belittle  the  Lieutenant's 
suggestion;  it's  a  valuable  one;  the  docks 
should  be  searched,  certainly.  But  con- 
sider for  an  instant.  Would  n't  two  naked 
men  wish  to  get  out  of  town  by  the  swiftest 
means  of  transportation?  Very  well.  Try 
the  docks  by  all  means,  but  first  look  in  the 
waiting-room  of  the  Union  Station." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Captain  White. 

[93] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

*^Very  good,"  repeated  Captain  Black. 
^^  Major,  thanks  for  your  courtesy  and  as- 
sistance.   Good-night." 

''  Ring  the  bell  again.  Bill,"  said  Mixter 
after  the  front  door  was  heard  to  shut. 
^^That  was  a  close  shave  for  you  two  all 
right." 

"You  bet  it  was,"  admitted  Eccles  as 
he  pushed  the  electric  button  once  more. 
"You  took  it  mighty  well,  Jack.  We'd 
have  been  lost  except  for  you." 

"And  Kenny,"  suggested  Stockdale. 

"And  Kenny,"  agreed  Eccles  as  the  butler 
appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  Take  this  notice  and  tack  it  up  on  the 
door  leading  from  the  hall  into  the  garden," 
said  Major  Mixter,  as  he  handed  over  a 
leaf  from  the  bridge  score,  on  the  reverse 
side  of  which  he  had  been  doing  some 
printing. 

"  Very  good,  Sir,"  said  the  butler,  taking 
the  paper  and  turning  towards  the  door. 
He  glanced  at  the  legend  and  read:  "No 
sea-bathing  in  this  garden." 

"Very  good.  Sir,"  he  repeated.  He 
crossed  the  threshold  and  then  turned  back 
into  the  room  once  more.  "  What  a  differ- 
ence war  and  summer  weather  in  Washing- 

[94] 


ONE   HUNDRED   AND   FOURTEEN 

ton  had  made  in  the  relations  of  servants 
with  their  employers,"  thought  Kenny. 
''  Gentlemen  were  quite  willing  to  talk,  and 
treated  servants  really  human  like." 

*^  I  wonder,"  he  ventured,  ^^if  they'll 
catch  them  two  Germans." 

''  I  don't  think  they  will,  Kenny,"  said 
Eccles.  ^^You  see,  Mr.  Stockdale  and  I 
felt  sorry  for  them.  Possibly  we  didn't 
give  those  intelligence  service  men  quite  as 
much  of  a  clue  as  we  might  have  done." 

'^  I  felt  sorry  for  them  too.  Sir,"  said 
Kenny  with  a  broad  smile,  which  he  dis- 
tributed pretty  equally  between  the  Lieu- 
tenant and  Stockdale. 

^^  Quite  right  of  you,  Kenny,"  observed 
the  latter.  '^  Should  we  be  utterly  heartless 
just  because  we  're  at  war?  No,  a  thousand 
times  No !  Lieut.  Eccles  feels  as  I  do,  only 
perhaps  more  strongly  so.  He  wants  to 
give  you  something,  Kenny,  to  show  he  ap- 
preciates that  kind  hearts  are  more  than 
coronets." 

''  Match  you  for  it,"  muttered  Eccles  to 
Stockdale.  ^^  Here,  Kenny,  I  guess  you've 
earned  it."  He  fished  in  his  pockets  and 
handed  over  a  ten  dollar  bill  to  the  gratified 
butler. 

[95] 


AT  A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

Major  Mixter  was  adding  up  the  score 
of  the  final  rubber.  ^^  Fourteen  hundred 
points,"  he  said.  ^^  Take  away  five  hundred 
and  fifty-two  —  " 

^^  I  say,"  interrupted  Major  Wargrave, 
^^  I  know  you  fellows  would  n't  do  anything 
that  was  n't  perfectly  top-hole  and  all  that, 
but  you  know  in  my  country  if  we'd  had 
two  escaped  Germans  about,  every  man 
Jack  of  us  would  have  been  out  and  after 
them." 

^^  Eight  hundred  and  forty-eight  points," 
went  on  Mixter.  *^You  don't  really  think 
there  were  any  escaped  Germans,  do  you, 
Wargrave?" 

Eccles  and  Stockdale  sat  up  with  a  jerk, 
as  though  a  pin  had  suddenly  been  inserted 
in  the  anatomy  of  each. 

^^I  didn't  suppose  anyone  would  really 
believe  that.  White  and  Black  are  two  nice 
boys.  They  room  together  in  the  next  block 
but  one.  They're  great  friends  of  mine, 
and  I  try  to  give  them  a  little  diversion 
whenever  I  can,  —  dinner  or  theatre  party, 
or  something  like  that.  You  remember  I 
was  dummy  when  these  two  loons  began 
doing  living  pictures  in  my  garden,  and  that 
I  went  upstairs  to  telephone?    Well,  I  fixed 

[96] 


ONE   HUNDRED  AND   FOURTEEN 

it  up  with  White  and  Black  then.  They 
did  it  very  well,  I  thought." 

^^  Villain,"  shouted  Eccles,  hurling  the 
epithet  and  a  sofa  pillow  at  his  host  with 
utmost  vehemence. 

''  Idiot,"  groaned  Stockdale  with  evident 
reference  to  himself,  as  he  fell  limply  back 
on  the  sofa. 

"Oh,  I  see,"  said  Major  Wargrave. 
"  Very  clever,  good  sport,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing.  Well,  I  must  be  toddlin'.  Had 
a  ripping  evening!" 

"  Must  you  go?  "  asked  Mixter.  "Well, 
come  soon  again,  old  fellow.  We'll  have 
lots  of  bridge  when  it  gets  cooler.  Good- 
night." 

"  Good-night,  Major,"  echoed  the  others. 

Major  Wargrave  went  downstairs  wear- 
ing a  somewhat  puzzled  expression.  At  the 
front  door,  as  the  sound  of  laughter  from 
the  living-room  floated  over  the  banister 
and  down  the  stairway,  he  paused  to  shake 
his  head. 

The  thermometer  had  dropped  to  a  hun- 
dred, and  Major  Wargrave  was  able  to  drag 
his  weary  steps  to  the  Hotel  Grafton  and 
to  walk  the  three  flights  of  stairs  to  his  room, 
for  the  elevator  had  stopped  running.    He 

[97] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

sat  for  some  time  trying  to  reconcile  the 
events  of  the  evening  with  the  fact  that  the 
men  with  whom  he  had  spent  it  were  re- 
puted to  be  among  the  most  tireless  and 
effective  workers  in  America's  great  war 
machine.  After  consuming  two  cigarettes  in 
the  attempt,  he  decided  the  result  sought 
would  not  be  worth  further  effort. 

He  undressed  and  lay  an  aching  head  on 
his  pillow. 

"An  awful  climate,"  he  murmured,  "  and 
a  strange  people." 

The  soothing  whir  of  the  electric  fan  by 
his  bed  made  him  drowsy.  Soon  he  was 
asleep,  and  dreamed  of  a  trim  red  brick 
Elizabethan  house,  with  a  broad  expanse 
of  velvet  lawn  in  front,  and  green  hedges, 
and  roses  full  blooming  in  May. 


[98] 


ALL  QUIET  ALONG  THE 
POTOMAC 


ALL  QUIET  ALONG  THE 
POTOMAC 


THE  Cosmopolitan  Club  at  lunch 
presented,  in  animated  form,  an  ab- 
breviated version  of  "  Who 's  Who  in 
America"  in  war  times.  Alone  by  the 
window,  on  the  H  Street  end  of  the  large 
dining-room  on  the  top  floor,  sat  the  Sec- 
retary of  State,  a  pleasant-faced  gentleman 
with  white  hair  and  mustache,  whose  ap- 
pearance indicated  a  potentiality  for  diplo- 
macy according  to  the  most  polite  formulas. 
At  a  table  on  the  side  of  the  room,  also 
sitting  alone,  was  the  builder  of  the  Panama 
Canal.  A  big  man  in  every  way,  with  broad 
shoulders,  rather  heavy,  large  round  face 
adorned  with  a  small  white  mustache  and 
surmounted  by  a  head  of  scanty  white  hair, 
he  looked  the  beau  ideal  figure  of  a  soldier. 
Famous  for  the  charm  of  his  manners  in 
private  intercourse,  it  was  jokingly  re- 
ported that  he  displayed  in  his  office  the 
[loi] 


AT   A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

same  careful  regard  for  the  amenities  that 
might  have  been  expected  of  a  grizzly  bear. 
Nearby,  a  tall,  slightly  built  man,  with  wavy 
iron-grey  hair  and  the  features  of  an  artist  or 
dreamer,  seemed  to  need  no  change  of  cos- 
tume or  appearance  to  walk  on  the  stage  at 
a  moment's  notice  in  the  part  of  one  of  the 
musicians  in  Warfield's  ''  Music  Master." 
It  was  the  head  of  the  almost  all-powerful 
War  Industries  Board.  A  broad-shoul- 
dered young  man,  a  mere  boy  in  appear- 
ance with  thick  head  of  hair  and  virile 
features,  leaned  eagerly  forward  over  the 
table  as  he  discussed  with  his  constant  com- 
panion and  Fidus  Achates  the  possibility  of 
a  trip  overseas  in  a  destroyer.  As  Assistant 
Secretary  of  the  Navy,  multifold  duties 
held  him  in  Washington;  but  he  meant  to 
go  or  know  the  reason  why.  Entering  the 
room  in  earnest  conversation  with  three 
companions,  a  short  man  with  somewhat 
tousled  hair  and  smooth,  youthful  face, 
which  just  missed  deserving  the  epithet 
^^  chubby,"  glanced  around  the  room  with 
sharp  eyes,  as  though  about  to  utter  the 
warning,  ^^Food  will  win  the  war;  don't 
waste  it."  Generals  with  two  stars  and  with 
one  star  were  here  and  there,  and  Colonels, 
[102] 


QUIET  ALONG  THE   POTOMAC 

Lieut.  Colonels  and  Majors,  especially  the 
last,  were  everywhere.  Arithmetic  itself 
could  not  keep  up  with  the  Majors  in  Wash- 
ington in  the  year  191 8.  A  fair  sprinkling 
of  British  and  French  officers  there  was  too; 
a  few  Italians,  and  with  them  a  single  figure 
in  a  strange,  dark  brown  uniform,  a  rep- 
resentative of  the  new  Czecho-Slovak  na- 
tion. The  other  seats  in  the  overcrowded 
room  were  occupied  by  mere  nobodies,  tiny 
cogs  in  the  war  machine,  but  nevertheless 
human  beings. 

"  Let 's  make  a  day  of  it  in  the  country, 
Sunday,"  suggested  Lieut.  William  Eccles, 
U.  S.  N.,  to  Stockdale  of  the  Camp  Service 
Division,  O.  Q.  M.  G.,  who  sat  opposite 
him  at  the  table  for  two.  "  It's  rotten  stay- 
ing in  town,  and  Chevy  Chase  is  just  as  bad. 
Let 's  you  and  Mixter  and  I  motor  out  along 
the  Potomac,  take  our  lunch  with  us,  and 
spend  the  day  with  good  old  nature." 

'^  Sort  of  a  picnic?  "  queried  Stockdale. 

"Picnic  is  right,"  answered  Eccles.  "I 
will  get  Mixter  to  have  lunch  put  up ;  we  '11 
take  my  car,  and  go  out  beyond  Cabin 
John  and  find  a  place  where  we  won't  see 
a  soul,  and  where  we  can  sag  back  and  talk 
about   golf,    or   baseball,    or   old    college 

[103] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

days,  or  turkey  trotting  or  anything  except 
the  war." 

*^  Sounds  all  right,"  assented  Stockdale. 

^^It's  a  date  then.  Mixter  and  I  will 
pick  you  up  here  at  ten-thirty,  or  say  eleven 
o'clock  so  as  to  give  the  Sunday  breakfast  a 
chance." 

"How  about  Phil  Tresham?" 

"  Bring  him,  by  all  means.  I  like  him. 
Old  friend  of  yours,  isn't  he?" 

"Lifelong,"  answered  Stockdale.  "^We 
twa  hae  played  about  the  banks '  and  in  lots 
of  other  places  besides.  His  family  has 
taken  the  war  fairly  seriously.  Tresham 
has  got  three  brothers  with  the  A.  E.  F. 
I  wish  you  could  know  the  youngest  one, 
Jim.  He  is  a  captain  of  a  field  battery, 
26th  Division.  He  is  about  the  most  at- 
tractive human  being  I  have  ever  laid  eyes 
on.  He  is  awfully  good-looking,  lively, 
fond  of  a  good  time,  but  with  a  serious  side 
to  him  too.  He  had  just  been  admitted  into 
partnership  in  one  of  the  biggest  and  best 
firms  in  Boston  when  we  got  into  the  war. 
He  had  been  married  for  about  a  year. 
Going  was  some  sacrifice." 

"It's  wonderful  the  way  that  has  been 
done  all  over  the  country.  Tell  Tresham 
[104] 


QUIET   ALONG  THE   POTOMAC 

to  come  sure.  Hello,  Harry,  how  is  rubber? 
Elastic  enough  to  meet  the  demand,  or  are 
you  still  ruining  the  tire  manufacturers?" 

Mr.  Bligh,  of  the  rubber  section  of 
the  War  Industries  Board,  a  short,  smooth- 
faced individual  wearing  spectacles  and  a 
perennial  smile  of  good  humor,  tapped  the 
Lieutenant  on  the  back  before  he  answered, 
^^  Rubber  is  stretching,  my  boy;  going  to 
have  plenty  for  the  U.  S.  Army;  but  naval 
lieutenants  stationed  in  Washington,  who 
sport  a  private  car,  had  better  keep  their 
mileage  low.  You  won't  be  able  to  buy  any 
more  tires,  Billy,  if  the  war  keeps  on." 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  me,"  responded 
Eccles.    "  I  'm  fond  of  walking." 

'^That's  the  boy!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Bligh 
heartily.  "  Keep  those  sea  legs  of  yours  in 
condition.  You  may  be  ordered  to  cross  — 
on  the  Jersey  City  ferry — at  any  moment. 
Preparedness  is  what  you  want  to  keep  in 
mind." 

^^How  are  you  standing  the  weather, 
Bligh?"  inquired  Stockdale. 

^^Fine!"  answered  the  rubber  man. 
^^  Fine,  what  there  is  left  of  me  to  stand  it. 
Sixteen  pounds  have  slipped  away  since 
these  little  eyes  first  saw  the  day.    July  first 

[105] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

is  the  day  I  refer  to.  Last  week  during  the 
hot  spell  I  thought  once  or  twice  that  they 
would  have  to  remove  me  through  a  hose, 
but  that  danger  passed  over  and  now  I  am 
not  afraid  of  anything.  Good-bye  boys.  I 
wouldn't  eat  so  much  at  this  time  of  year 
if  I  were  you." 

"He  is  a  cheerful  soul,  isn't  he?"  said 
Stockdale,  as  Mr.  Bligh  departed  to  ex- 
change conversational  scraps  with  the  oc- 
cupants of  a  table  some  distance  away. 

"  Cheerful  and  a  wonder,"  answered 
Eccles.  "He  is  the  sort  of  man  who  is 
keeping  the  home  fires  burning  all  right! 
He's  Treasurer  of  the  Goodfisk  Rubber 
Company,  one  of  the  largest  concerns  in 
the  country.  It  has  heaps  of  government 
orders,  and  he  was  doing  sure  enough  war 
work  right  in  his  own  business.  But  they 
wanted  him  down  here,  and  he  came  flying. . 
Brought  down  eight  or  ten  of  his  own  office 
force;  pays  their  wages  out  of  the  dollar  a 
year  he  gets  himself,  and  is  controlling  the 
rubber  industry  of  the  country  with  so  much 
sauviter  in  modo  and  such  efficiency  that  no 
one  has  a  kick  coming  anywhere." 

"He  looks  as  though  he  liked  it,"  ob- 
served Stockdale. 

[106] 


QUIET  ALONG   THE   POTOMAC 

"Bligh  likes  any  sort  of  hard  work," 
answered  Eccles,  ^^  and  he  loves  this  because 
it  makes  him  feel  he  is  helping  to  beat  the 
Germans." 

^'  And  yet  he  will  never  get  a  bit  of  credit 
for  it,"  said  Stockdale. 

*^  Credit  is  the  last  thing  he  is  looking  for; 
he  doesn't  want  a  ribband  to  stick  in  his 
coat.  He  has  got  a  job  he  knows  he  can  do, 
and  is  as  happy  as  a  lark.  And  work  — 
I  never  saw  anything  like  it!  Last  week  I 
found  I  could  get  off  on  Friday  night,  so 
I  thought  I  would  run  on  to  Boston  and 
thence  to  Beverly  to  see  the  Missis  and  the 
kids.  I  couldn't  get  even  an  upper  berth 
and  was  going  to  give  it  up  when  I  hap- 
pened to  run  into  Bligh.  He  had  a  state- 
room and  insisted  I  should  share  it  with 
him.  Incidentally  he  wouldn't  let  me  pay 
anything  for  it,  but  that  isn't  the  point. 
I  waited  for  him  at  the  gate  until  I  thought 
we  had  missed  the  train  sure,  when  up 
dashed  Bligh  carrying  a  big  portfolio  of 
papers  and  followed  by  Bulkeley,  his  as- 
sistant, with  another  one.  We  all  three 
swung  aboard  the  train  just  as  it  began  to 
move,  and  piled  into  the  stateroom.  It 
wasn't  the  hottest  day — the  thermometer 

[  107  ] 


AT  A  DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

was  only  a  hundred  or  so  —  but  that  state- 
room was  a  cosy  corner  in  Hades  all  right. 
With  hardly  a  word,  Bligh  and  Bulkeley 
stripped  to  their  undershirts  and  then  sat 
down  to  finish  up  the  day's  work.  Bulkeley 
would  hand  Bligh  a  paper  out  of  one  of  the 
portfolios,  Bligh  would  read  it,  think  a 
minute  or  two,  gazing  with  an  expression  of 
wrapt  beatitude  at  the  roof  of  the  car,  and 
then  give  some  instructions  which  Bulkeley 
would  jot  down.  They  kept  at  it  tooth  and 
nail;  never  let  up  for  an  instant.  When  we 
got  to  the  Baltimore  tunnel,  of  course  there 
stopped  being  any  air  at  all  and  I  was 
choking  and  gasping  for  breath,  like  a  cod- 
fish in  the  bottom  of  a  dory,  but  those  two 
worked  on,  all  serene,  and  finished  up  the 
second  portfolio  just  in  time  for  Bulkeley 
to  hop  off  the  train  as  we  were  pulling  out 
of  Baltimore.  He  was  going  to  take  the 
next  train  back  to  Washington  and  keep 
things  moving  until  Bligh's  return  on  Mon- 
day morning.  Really,  it  was  quite  a  sight. 
Bligh  sat  there  sweating  freely;  no,  ^  freely' 
is  too  small  a  word ;  he  was  running  rivers ; 
his  eyes  twinkling  through  his  spectacles 
and  grinning  all  the  time  as  though  he  were 
listening  to  Al  Jolson  singing  *  And  Every- 
thing.' "  [  io8  ] 


QUIET   ALONG  THE    POTOMAC 

^^  He  must  be  a  good  man,"  said  Stock- 
dale.  He  looked  up.  ^' There  is  Mixter 
now." 

Eccles  glanced  towards  the  door  where 
Major  Mixter  of  the  Signal  Corps  stood 
talking  on  apparently  intimate  terms  with 
the  white-haired  old  head-waiter.  The 
latter's  face  was  beaming  with  smiles,  and 
he  nodded  his  head  repeatedly. 

*^  I  '11  go  and  nail  Jack  for  Sunday  now," 
said  Eccles.  ^^  No  use  in  letting  a  good  idea 
get  cold." 

II 

About  twenty  miles  out  from  Wash- 
ington, Mixter,  Eccles  and  Stockdale 
(Tresham  having  sent  word  at  the  last 
moment  he  could  not  come),  had  finished 
their  picnic  lunch  under  the  boughs  of  a 
huge  oak  on  the  high  bank  overhanging  the 
Maryland  side  of  the  Potomac.  Beneath 
them  the  wide,  muddy  river  flowed  lazily 
along.  Its  thickly  wooded  shores  stretched 
out  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see.  On  the 
nearer  side  a  canal-boat  tied  up  to  the  shore 
gave  the  only  sign  of  life.  On  its  deck  sat 
a  man  and  a  woman  reading  newspapers, 
[109] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

while  two  small  children  played  about. 
The  day  was  hot  and  still,  but  there  seemed 
to  be  more  air  than  in  Washington;  some- 
how it  was  easier  to  breathe. 

^^  Peaceful,"  said  Stockdale,  stretching 
himself  out  on  the  grass  beneath  the  oak 
and  lighting  a  cigarette. 

^*  Lord,  yes,"  agreed  Mixter,  who  sat  with 
his  back  against  the  tree. 

"Not  a  bad  idea  of  little  Willie's,"  ob- 
served Eccles.  "If  it  wasn't  for  me  you 
would  both  be  reading  all  the  Sunday 
papers  at  the  Cosmopolitan  Club." 

"  Or  hearing  Steve  Gray  explain  why  this 
had  become  another  Twenty  Years'  War," 
said  Stockdale. 

"Or  Bill  McCoon  point  out  that 
Pershing  would  n't  have  any  troops  fit  to 
go  into  action  until  the  spring  of  next  year," 
suggested  Mixter.  "He  doesn't  consider 
what  they  did  at  Chateau-Thierry  or  in 
wiping  out  the  Soissons-Rheims  Salient 
going  into  action,  because  they  were  under 
the  command  of  the  French." 

"  He  must  be  a  military  expert,"  observed 
Stockdale.  "  You  can  get  up  quite  a  repu- 
tation as  a  military  expert  if  you  belly-ache 
enough." 

[no] 


QUIET   ALONG   THE    POTOMAC 

^^Well,  he's  not  here,  thank  the  Lord," 
said  Eccles  with  satisfaction.  ^^The  Sun- 
day situation  has  been  saved  by  the  initiative 
of  the  American  Navy." 

The  three  seekers  after  nature  smoked 
for  some  moments  in  silence.  All  were 
dressed  in  white  flannel  trousers,  soft  shirts, 
and  outing  coats.  Stockdale  was  a  civilian, 
and  Mixter  and  Eccles  gave  a  liberal  inter- 
pretation to  the  orders  of  their  respective 
services  permitting  officers  to  dofif  uniforms 
when  engaged  in  physical  exercise.  Motor- 
ing out  into  the  country  and  there  lying  flat 
on  the  back  under  a  tree  was  felt  by  both 
to  come  properly  under  the  head  of  exercise. 

^^  I  wonder,"  observed  Stockdale  lazily, 
"how  many  officers  there  are  stationed  in 
Washington?" 

"Army  or  navy?"  queried  Eccles. 

"  Both." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  answered  Eccles, 
"five  thousand;  ten  thousand;  fifty  thou- 
sand;—  quite  a  lot  anyway." 

"  It  would  seem  so  from  your  figures," 
agreed  Stockdale.  "They  sound  accurate 
and  convincing." 

"  Mighty  few  privates,"  remarked  Mixter. 

"It  doesn't  bother  me  because  I  am  a 

[III] 


AT   A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

civilian,"  said  Stockdale,  ^^but  it  bothers 
some  people.  I  was  walking  down  Seven- 
teenth Street  the  other  day,  and  just  in  front 
of  me  was  a  strapping  big  sergeant  of  in- 
fantry. He  wa3  saluting  somebody  at  every 
step,  arm  going  up  and  down  like  a  pump 
handle.  I  caught  up  with  him  and  he 
grabbed  me  by  the  shoulder.  ^  Blankety 
blank,  blank,  blank,'  he  remarked,  ^this  is 
a  hell  of  a  nice  place  for  an  enlisted  man.' " 

*^It  can't  be  helped,"  observed  Eccles. 
^^  Officers  must  be  saluted,  even  though  in  a 
place  like  Washington  it's  a  nuisance  all 
round.  But  I  do  sympathize  with  that 
sergeant.  In  a  camp  I  suppose  there  are  a 
hundred  enlisted  men,  roughly,  to  every 
commissioned  officer;  here  it  is  at  least  as 
much  the  other  way  round.  So  that  ser- 
geant, alone  and  single-handed,  was  doing 
the  saluting  for  ten  thousand  men." 

^^  Figures  are  evidently  your  strong  point. 
Bill,"  observed  Stockdale. 

''  It  is  a  pity,"  said  Mixter,  ''  that  those  of 
us  who  are  doing  office  work  wear  the  same 
uniform  as  men  who  are  out  with  troops.  I 
wish  it  could  be  different,  or  distinguished 
in  some  way.  They  considered  doing  some- 
thing of  the  kind,  but  never  got  along  with 
it.'*  [112] 


QUIET   ALONG  THE    POTOMAC 

"You  may  be  ordered  anywhere,"  said 
Stockdale.  "  You  don't  know  that  you  will 
stay  anchored  to  Washington." 

"  I  do,"  said  Eccles.  A  somber  look  re- 
placed his  generally  cheerful  expression. 
"When  I  came  up  for  a  commission  I  could 
not  pass  the  physical  examination.  They 
finally  took  me,  but  the  Surgeon  Gen- 
eral's office  wrote  on  the  back  of  my  physical 
report  '  Waived  for  office  work  only.' " 

"Cheer  up,  Bill,"  said  Mixter,  "you  are 
no  worse  ofif  than  lots  of  others.  I  don't  con- 
sider myself  much  of  a  soldier." 

"  There  are  a  lot  of  us  in  the  Quartermas- 
ter's Department,"  observed  Stockdale,  who 
have  remained  civilians  though  we  prob- 
ably could  have  commissions  if  we  wanted 
them.  I  am  afraid  we  don't  because  of  selfish 
reasons.  Sometimes  I  put  it  on  the  ground 
that  it  is  n't  right  to  be  dressed  as  a  soldier 
unless  you  are  more  closely  connected  with 
combat  than  by  spending  your  days  in  han- 
dling business  matters  by  means  of  a  com- 
plicated system  of  correspondence;  but  I 
guess  that  is  n't  the  real  reason.  The  truth 
is,  it  would  worry  me  sick  to  do  office  work 
under  military  orders.  At  present  I  can 
talk  freely  with  Colonels,  and  even  Gen- 

[113] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

erals,  and  stand  up  for  what  I  think  is  right 
with  a  decent  independence;  besides,  I 
really  think  civilians  are  less  susceptible  to 
that  habit-forming  germ  known  as  ^  passing 
the  buck.'  But  there  is  something  lacking 
just  the  same.  By  going  into  uniform 
you  both  have  given  up  something, 
and  as  a  result  you  Ve  got  a  stronger 
sense  of  being  in  the  Service.  The 
great  statesmen  down  at  the  far  end  of 
Pennsylvania  Avenue  can  talk  all  they  want 
about  wearing  spurs  to  keep  your  feet  from 
slipping  off  the  deck;  if  they  were  in  uni- 
form they  might  not  take  quite  so  jocular 
a  view  of  the  matter.  Personally,  I  am 
too  well  settled  as  I  am  to  make  any 
change;  but  both  of  you  are  going  to  feel 
a  satisfaction  after  the  war  that  I  won't 
enjoy." 

^^  I  should  n't  worry  about  that  if  I  were 
you/'  observed  Mixter.  "There  is  a  lot 
of  energy  used  up  in  conscientious  hair- 
splitting. I  know  lots  of  civilians  in  Wash- 
ington who  wish  they  were  in  uniform,  and 
lots  of  men  in  uniform  who  think  they  could 
do  better  work  as  civilians.  It  does  n't  make 
any  difference,  as  long  as  everybody  gets 
on  with  his  job." 

[114] 


QUIET  ALONG  THE   POTOMAC 

'^  It's  some  job  picking  a  job,"  said  Stock- 
dale.  ^^  I  have  never  got  over  the  w^hirl  and 
confusion  of  my  first  three  days'  visit,  be- 
fore I  came  on  for  good.  I  had  been  told 
I  was  too  old  for  a  line  commission,  and 
I  did  n't  see  much  good  in  anything  else.  I 
was  wrong,  of  course,  but  that  is  the  way 
I  felt.  Then  they  wrote  and  asked  me  to 
take  the  legal  section  in  the  Camp  Service 
Division.  It  was  a  new  thing,  and  when 
I  looked  it  over  I  could  n't  tell  what  kind 
of  a  bird  it  might  prove  to  be  when  hatched. 
As  I  was  in  Washington  I  thought  I  might 
as  well  look  round  a  bit;  so  I  started  in  call- 
ing at  offices  of  men  I  happened  to  know. 
Honestly,  everyone  of  them  either  offered 
me  a  job  or  knew  of  one  waiting  just  round 
the  corner.  There  was  a  place  with  the 
Shipping  Board,  a  commission  in  the  In- 
telligence Department,  U.  S.  A.,  a  job  on 
the  legal  staff  of  the  Oil  Administrator,  a 
chance  to  go  to  Roumania  for  the  Food 
Commission,  and  I  can't  remember  what 
else,  but  there  were  others.  When  I  was  n't 
talking  jobs  I  was  lunching  at  the  Club  or 
the  Shoreham  or  the  Willard,  and  seeing 
everyone  I  had  ever  heard  of  walking  round 
as  casual  and  common  as  the  house  fly: 

[115 1 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

Tumulty,  Daniels,  Lane,  Baker  and  lots  of 
others  whom  I  had  regarded  more  or  less 
as  fabulous  monsters.  The  crowds  on  the 
street  cars  and  the  mobs  pouring  out  of 
government  offices  in  the  afternoon  made 
my  eyes  bulge  out,  and  I  got  so  much  inside 
dope  on  the  aircraft  situation  that  my  hair 
stood  on  end.  I  guess  everybody's  hair  did 
that  when  they  talked  aircraft.  Taking  the 
third  degree,  as  a  preliminary  to  getting  into 
a  government  office-building,  the  process 
being  accompanied  by  personally  hostile 
glances  from  suspicious  men  in  blue  coats 
and  brass  buttons,  made  me  so  nervous  that  I 
felt  the  imminence  of  arrest  and  incarcera- 
tion hovering  over  me  night  and  day.  Be- 
fore leaving  home  I  had  telegraphed  to  the 
Willard  for  a  room.  When  I  got  here,  of 
course  there  was  nothing  doing.  I  tried 
eight  other  hotels,  all  I  could  locate,  and 
each  one  of  them  gave  me  as  cordial  a  wel- 
come as  though  I  was  the  Scarlet  Fever. 
Finally,  Phil  Tresham  agreed  to  let  me 
sleep  on  the  couch  in  his  sitting  room.  By 
the  time  that  haven  of  refuge  appeared  on 
my  horizon  my  power  of  independent  voli- 
tion had  evaporated,  and  my  morale  would 
have  disgraced  Austria.  I  couldn't  sleep 
[ii6] 


QUIET  ALONG  THE   POTOMAC 

at  night,  and  my  head  swam,  until  I  got 
home  and  had  a  breathing  spell." 

''  It's  fierce  until  you  get  used  to  it,"  said 
Eccles.  ^^Why  did  you  choose  the  Camp 
Service  job?" 

'^  I  got  so  confused  by  the  multiplicity  of 
ways  in  which  I  could  win  the  war  that  the 
only  safe  course  seemed  to  be  grabbing  the 
job  which  had  taken  the  trouble  to  look  me 
up.  I  don't  know  whether  I  am  accom- 
plishing anything  or  not.  Half  the  time  I 
think  I  might  as  well  be  at  home;  better, 
in  fact." 

"The  truth  of  the  matter,"  observed 
Mixter,  "is  that  most  of  the  work  in  Wash- 
ington is  not  only  uncongenial,  but  doesn't 
give  any  solid  satisfaction  or  sense  of  ac- 
complishment. Nothing  does  that  in  war 
times  but  fighting,  I  imagine.  We  are  here 
because  we  would  be  so  miserable  at  home 
that  we  couldn't  stand  it;  but  I  am  under 
no  delusions  as  to  being  a  patriot.  If  I  am 
doing  any  good  it  is  so  much  clear  gain." 

"  After  all,"  said  Stockdale,  "  it  is  a  big 
privilege  to  be  where  you  can  see  a  miracle 
take  place  before  your  very  eyes." 

"  You  mean  the  way  the  country  is  back- 
ing up  the  war?"  asked  Mixter. 

[117] 


AT   A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

^^  That  and  the  scale  on  which  things  are 
being  done.  I  have  always  pictured  myself  as 
an  optimist,  but  in  my  most  soaring  moments 
I  never  supposed  the  U.  S.  could  get  going 
the  way  it  actually  has  done.  Not  a  day 
goes  by  that  I  don't  wonder  at  the  vision 
of  the  men  who  are  running  things.  Their 
conception  of  what  they  have  got  to  do  is  so 
big  that  I  feel  as  though  my  mind  was  born 
shrivelled." 

"  As  though  you  were  a  sort  of  pin-head," 
suggested  Eccles  helpfully. 

^^Less  than  that,"  answered  Stockdale. 
"  I  remember  so  well  the  way  things  were 
done  in  the  Spanish  War.  At  that  time  I 
was  helping  to  defend  the  North  Shore  of 
Massachusetts  from  possible  excesses  on  the 
part  of  the  Spanish  fleet,  with  some  muzzle- 
loading  artillery,  —  Civil  War  relics.  Slip- 
shod, is  the  way  to  describe  things  then. 
Not  only  that,  but  the  point  of  view  was 
small  —  picayune.  Now,  nothing  is  too  big, 
too  expensive,  or  too  much  work  for  us  to 
tackle.  If  we  need  ordnance,  we  buy  land, 
build  a  brand-new  plant  of  enormous  extent, 
put  up  houses  for  the  workmen  to  live  in, 
take  over  the  whole  output  of  a  copper 
mine,  and  go  at  it  from  the  ground  up;  the 
[ii8] 


QUIET  ALONG  THE   POTOMAC 

same  with  ships;  with  aeroplanes;  with 
everything.  American  initiative,  American 
enterprise,  and  the  American  way  of  han- 
dling big  problems  is  showing  up  as  hand- 
somely as  the  heroine  in  a  movie.  I  see  that 
the  optimism  on  which  I  used  to  pride 
myself  is  a  pretty  poor,  weak  sort  of  thing. 
Its  foundations  lay  in  taking  for  granted 
that  everything  would  somehow  turn  out 
all  right,  no  matter  what  was  done.  The 
real  thing  in  American  optimism  consists 
in  the  belief  that  while  what  seems 
impossible  is  staring  you  in  the  face,  it 
can  be  done  as  easily  as  blowing  on  your 
hands." 

^^You  have  touched  on  one  striking  fea- 
ture of  what  you  describe  not  inaccurately 
as  a  miracle,"  observed  Mixter,  ^^  but  there 
is  another.  That  is  the  universal  willing- 
ness of  people.  There  has  never  been  any- 
thing like  it.  I  am  a  business  man;  if  I 
know  anything  it  is  the  business  man's  point 
of  view;  the  way  he  looks  on  things,  and 
his  attitude  toward  affairs  generally,  par- 
ticularly toward  government  interference. 
It  is  the  one  thing  he  hates  and  dreads. 
Yet,  what  is  happening  today?  The  War 
Industries  Board,  the  War  Trade  Board, 

[119] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A   YEAR 

the  Food  Administration,  all  the  regular 
Departments,  and  Lord  knows  what  else, 
are  butting  in  on  the  most  minute  opera- 
tions of  every  business  in  the  country. 
Any  kicks?  A  few  now  and  then;  but 
by  and  large  every  business  man  in  the 
country  is  falling  over  himself  in  his  eager- 
ness to  do  as  he  is  asked.  He  wants  to 
get  into  the  game  somehow,  and  if  cutting 
down  his  output  one  half  is  the  only  way 
he  can  do  it,  that  seems  to  him  better  than 
nothing.  There  are  a  few  profiteers  hover- 
ing around  like  buzzards,  but  they  are  not 
a  drop  in  the  bucket." 

"Hello,  there  comes  a  steamboat,"  said 
Eccles,  sitting  up.  "  I  did  n't  know  any- 
thing ran  on  the  old  Potomac  now-days." 

Round  the  bend  in  the  river  ahead  came 
a  lumbering  old-fashioned,  paddle-wheel 
steamboat,  crowded  with  day  excursionists. 

"  They  have  got  the  right  idea  of  the  way 
to  spend  Sunday,  too,"  said  Eccles. 

"They  need  it,"  observed  Stockdale.  "  I 
have  wondered  how  some  of  these  sten- 
ographers and  clerks  get  through  this 
weather.  All  day  in  offices  like  the  stoke- 
hole of  a  battleship,  and  nights  in  suffo- 
cating hall  bedrooms." 
[120] 


QUIET  ALONG  THE   POTOMAC 

"You  don't  hear  any  complaints,"  re- 
marked Eccles. 

"  Not  one,"  agreed  Mixter.  "  They  want 
to  be  in  the  game,  too." 

Stockdale  lay  back  again  on  the  grass,  his 
arm  under  his  head,  and  looked  at  his  com- 
panions with  a  somewhat  quizzical  smile. 
"Has  the  war,  by  any  possible  chance, 
suggested  to  either  of  you  that  people  gen- 
erally are  better  than  you  had  any  idea  of ; 
a  damn  sight  better  than  you  are  yourselves, 
for  instance?" 

"  Surest  thing  you  know,"  admitted 
Mixter. 

"Lord,  yes,"  assented  Eccles  heartily. 
"I  have  to  struggle  frequently  against 
tagging  myself  *  Market  value  thirty  cents.' " 

Stockdale  laughed.  "It  certainly  does 
make  you  realize  your  own  weaknesses  as 
though  someone  had  put  a  fifty-candle 
power  incandescent  electric  light  inside  you. 
My  spirit,  I  think,  is  fairly  willing,  but  good 
Lord,  the  flesh  is  weak.  It  is  one  thing  to 
have  the  correct  and  patriotic  mental  atti- 
tude; to  hand  over  the  goods  is  another  pair 
of  shoes.  I  am  learning  that  it  is  n't  what  you 
are  willing  to  do  now  that  determines  your 
effectiveness,  so  much  as  what  you  have 

[121] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

been  doing  for  the  last  twenty  years  or  so. 
My  continued  and  reasonably  successful 
endeavor  hitherto  to  pick  the  primrose  path 
in  life  is  pretty  nearly  tying  my  hands  be- 
hind my  back  now." 

'^  You  do  feel  at  times  as  though  your  soul 
was  bared  stark  and  naked,  and  blown 
upon  by  somewhat  bitter  winds,"  observed 
Mixter. 

*^Look  here,"  protested  Eccles  indig- 
nantly, *^  I  called  this  meeting  as  a  pleasure 
party,  and  I  '11  be  hanged  if  I  listen  to  any 
more  loose  talk  about  souls  or  psychology. 
What  you  need  is  to  have  your  liver  shaken 
up,  Stockdale,  and  to  get  your  blood  cir- 
culating. As  for  Jack,  exercise  won't  help 
him.  He  is  just  naturally  a  born  drooler, 
and  would  sit  contentedly  talking  philos- 
ophy to  a  wooden  Indian  all  day.  Honestly, 
are  n't  you  both  glad  to  be  in  Washington 
at  this  period  in  the  world's  history?  " 

Mixter  and  Stockdale  nodded.  "It's 
the  most  interesting  time  of  my  life,"  con- 
ceded the  latter.  "  What  difference  does  it 
make  what  any  single  individual  is  doing? 
Think  of  what  is  being  done  by  everyone 
together." 

"Never  again,"  observed  Mixter,  "will 
[122] 


QUIET  ALONG  THE   POTOMAC 

anyone  catch  me  cursing  out  the  inefficiency 
of  a  democracy.  In  the  first  place,  ineffi- 
ciency is  a  small  price  to  pay  for  individual 
freedom;  in  the  second  place,  this  country 
is  showing  that  you  don't  have  to  pay  it." 

^^You  are  right,"  agreed  Stockdale,  *^on 
both  your  points.  Until  we  thought  we 
might  lose  it,  I  don't  believe  any  of  us  quite 
realized  what  we  owed  to  democracy.  As 
I  understand  it,  democracy  means  the  right 
of  the  individual  to  develop  through  in- 
dividual effort  and  initiative,  instead  of 
doing  so  by  means  of  orders  from  govern- 
mental authorities.  It  represents  the  di- 
rectly opposite  theory  of  civilization  from 
that  of  the  Germans;  as  different  as  black 
is  from  white.  It  is  a  good  suggestion  that 
this  war  is  being  fought  to  make  the  world 
safe  for — " 

"  Don't  spring  that  one  about  the  Demo- 
cratic Party,"  warned  Eccles.  "  My  good 
nature  is  about  exhausted  as  it  is." 

"  Germany's  system  is  merely  government 
by  suffocation,"  went  on  Stockdale. 

"Down  at  Seventeenth  and  G  Streets, 
where  the  stormy  winds  do  blow,"  observed 
Eccles,  "  I  am  too  busy  putting  the  Ameri- 
can Navy  on  its  feet  to  spend  much  time  in 

[123] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A   YEAR 

considering  the  whichness  of  the  why;  so 
you  two  will  have  to  excuse  me  if  I  am  not 
able  to  keep  step  with  you  in  a  hot-air  con- 
test; still,  little  Willie  does  have  a  thought 
now  and  then.  I  am  no  Bolshevik,  but 
I  do  feel  more  interested  in  people  than  I 
used  to  do.  I  have  been  discovering  for 
some  months  that  there  are  several  good  men 
in  the  world  outside  the  list  of  my  previous 
acquaintances.  There  are  a  lot  of  men  here 
who  have  given  up  real  things  just  for  a 
chance  to  help  beat  the  Germans.  Sacrifice 
to  them  means  more  than  resigning  from  a 
club  or  two  because  their  income  is  reduced. 
When  it  comes  to  sacrifice,  they  eat  it  up. 
A  good  many  of  them,  I  find,  have  got  sons 
in  the  army." 

^*  The  son  of  the  head-waiter  at  the  club," 
remarked  Mixter,  ^^has  just  been  awarded 
the  D.S.O.  I  was  talking  with  him  about  it 
the  other  day." 

"You  said  something.  Bill,"  observed 
Stockdale.  "  Some  of  the  people  I  have 
met  here  have  certainly  broadened  my 
views  and  taught  me  a  little  about  what 
unselfishness  means." 

*^You  will  learn  something  in  time,  if 
you  live  long  enough.  Bob,"  said  Eccles. 

[124] 


QUIET  ALONG  THE   POTOMAC 

^'  Boston  is  the  hub  of  the  universe,  of 
course,  but  there  are  some  decent  folks 
living  out  on  the  spokes  and  the  rim." 

^^Look  who's  here!"  observed  Mixter 
suddenly,  staring  down  the  lane  which  ran 
to  the  highway.  '^Who  told  you  where  to 
find  us?" 

Philip  Tresham  strolled  up  toward  the 
little  group,  exchanging  greetings  as  he  did 
so.  He  selected  a  comfortable  place  to  sit, 
where  he  could  lean  his  back  against  a 
rock,  and  gave  a  glance  at  the  wooded  banks 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  before  re- 
plying to  Mixter's  question. 

^^  I  had  to  spend  the  morning  at  the  office 
with  General  Gish.  We  are  getting  out 
some  new  regulations.  When  we  got 
through  I  thought  I  would  take  a  chance 
and  follow  you." 

He   leaned  back,   a  trifle  wearily,   and 
stretched  out  his  legs  at  their  full  length 
before  him.     "My  word,  but  this  is  nice 
here,"  he  said  slowly.     "Is  this  what  you* 
have  been  doing  all  day?" 

Eccles  raised  his  head  a  moment  from  the 
turf  where  he  was  lying.  "  Since  our  al 
fresco  nooday  repast,  what  you  see  is  pre- 
cisely all  that  we  may  be  truthfully  said  to 

[125] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

have  been  doing.  I  can't,  with  any  regard 
to  my  conscience,  designate  the  conversation 
that  has  been  carried  on  here  as  doing 
anything." 

'^ What's  the  matter,  Phil?  Are  you 
tired  out?"  asked  Stockdale,  who  had  been 
studying  the  somber  expression  of  his 
friend's  face  since  the  latter's  arrivaL 

'^Not  a  particle,"  answered  Tresham, 
with  an  obvious  attempt  at  cheerfulness. 
*^Go  ahead  with  the  talk;  I'm  a  good 
listener." 

''  It  is  all  over,"  said  Mixter.  ''  We  have 
got  everything  properly  settled.  You  will 
have  to  dish  up  some  new  problem  for  us. 
We  can't  think  of  any  more." 

Tresham  sighed,  and  closed  his  eyes. 
^^  Bully  here,"  he  murmured. 

''  Spit  it  out,  Phil,"  demanded  Stockdale. 
"What's  the  trouble?  You've  got  some- 
thing on  your  mind." 

"  Oh,  it 's  nothing  much ;  nothing  unusual, 
that  is.  I  admit  that  I  get  the  jim-jams  once 
in  a  while,  when  news  from  France  sort  of 
brings  things  home.  I  got  a  letter  from  my 
youngest  brother,  Jim,  this  morning.  He 
is  in  a  hospital ;  been  badly  gassed,  and  got 
a  piece  of  shrapnel  in  his  right  arm.  How- 
[126] 


QUIET  ALONG  THE   POTOMAC 

ever,  he  is  coming  on  all  right  I  guess,  from 
what  he  says.  Does  n't  think  there  is  much 
chance  he  will  have  to  lose  the  arm,  is  the 
way  he  puts  it.  Finds  it  very  restful  in  the 
hospital,  but  would  like  to  get  back  to 
the  front.  Says  it  makes  him  feel  like  a 
slacker  loafing  in  a  hospital  when  other  men 
are  out  at  work." 

There  was  complete  silence  for  a  minute 
after  Tresham  had  ceased  speaking. 

"We  have  been  talking  about  our  war 
work,"  said  Mixter  finally,  in  low  tones,  and 
with  considerable  emphasis  on  the  word 
war.    "Good  Lord!" 

Stockdale  and  Eccles  gazed  into  the 
distance  with  set  expressions. 

"War  work  here  in  Washington!"  ex- 
claimed Eccles  at  last. 

"And  all  hell  loose  in  Europe!"  added 
Stockdale. 

Tresham  shook  himself  free  from  the 
spell  which  had  seemed  to  lie  on  him  since 
his  arrival.  His  gaze  travelled  down  the 
broad  river.  "  Never  mind,"  he  said,  "  take 
things  as  they  are.  It's  all  quiet  along  the 
Potomac." 


[127] 


MUNITIONS  OF  WAR 


MUNITIONS   OF  WAR 

'^  T'OU  must  not  say  ^ masks,'"  shouted 
^    Jim  Kellen  into  the  transmitter  of 

JL    the  long  distance  telephone. 

"  Why  not?  "  came  back  a  faint  voice  over 
the  wire. 

"Because  those  are  the  orders,"  con- 
tinued Kellen.  "  You  can  talk  all  you  want 
to  about  'gas,'  but  if  you  hitch  the  word 
*  masks'  on,  —  good-night,  the  country  is 
ruined.  Put  it  this  way:  'to  save  our  men 
from  German  poison  gas.'  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

There  was  no  answer. 

"Confound  it  all,"  exclaimed  Kellen, 
"they've  cut  us  off  again."  He  hung  up 
the  receiver,  waited  possibly  five  seconds, 
and  then  jounced  it  up  and  down  on  its 
hook  with  a  persistency  born  of  hot- 
weather  irritation.  "Hello,"  he  shouted. 
"You  cut  me  off — with  De  Sota.  Yes, 
De  Sota;  Market  2921.  Mr.  Merrill; 
M-E-R-R-I-L-L.  At  the  Red  Cross., 
Well,  hurry  up  now;  it's  important." 

[131] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

He  slammed  the  receiver  back  again  on 
the  hook  and  turned  to  Major  Johnson  of 
the  Gas  and  Flame  Division,  Chemical 
Warfare  Service,  U.  S.  A.  "Merrill  has 
got  a  thousand  six-sheet  posters  printed  ask- 
ing for  materials  for  gas  masks,"  he  ex- 
plained. "  It's  an  awful  break,  because  the 
War  Council  of  the  Red  Cross  has  ruled 
against  it.  You  see,  we  are  a  noncombatant 
organization,  and  are  not  supposed  to  fur- 
nish materials  for  offensive  warfare;  or  any 
kind  of  warfare,  I  guess.  I  only  learned 
this  recently  myself.  Merrill  is  the  local 
conservation  man  out  there,  and  he  is  as  full 
of  pep  as  an  Irish  terrier;  too  full.  He  will 
have  the  Red  Cross  pinched  by  an  Inter- 
national Police  Force  the  first  thing  you 
know,  for  knocking  the  slats  out  of  the 
Geneva  Convention.  However,  he  has  my 
sympathy.  Hamlet's  little  problem  about 
^  to  be  or  not  to  be '  did  n't  have  a  thing  on 
my  job.  I  have  to  consider  how  to  do  and 
not  to  do." 

Major  Johnson,  a  smooth-faced  man  of 
thirty-five  or  so,  wearing  spectacles  and 
with  dark  brown  hair  brushed  all  the  way 
across  his  head  from  a  part  on  the  extreme 
left  side,  smiled  tolerantly. 

[132] 


MUNITIONS   OF  WAR 

"How  is  that?"  he  inquired. 

"  Well,  of  course  you  know  that  everyone 
in  Washington  is  winning  the  war  in  one 
way  or  another.  Some  of  the  ways  are  darn 
good,  and  others,  if  you  ask  me,  are  punk. 
The  special  way  in  which  I  personally  am 
winning  the  war  consists  in  the  collection 
of  much-needed  materials  which,  for  one 
reason  or  another,  you  can't  go  into  a  shop 
and  buy.  In  other  words,  I  have  to  dig 
them  out  here,  there  and  everywhere.  Over 
here  at  the  Red  Cross  we  call  it  Conserva- 
tion or  Salvage  or  Reclamation,  just  as  the 
fancy  takes  us.  It  all  depends  on  which 
you  consider  the  ^more  tenderer  word,'  as 
old  Mr.  Weller  remarked  in  reference  to 
Sam's '  walentine.'  But  step  across  the  street 
to  the  War  Industries  Board  and  you  will 
find  you  have  to  mind  your  p's  and  q's. 
They  have  got  the  meaning  of  those  words 
down  finer  than  an  unabridged  dictionary. 
If  the  conservation  man  there  steps  into 
salvage  territory,  or  the  salvage  man  at- 
tempts to  do  any  conservation,  it's  looked 
upon  about  as  kindly  as  an  assassination. 
In  fact,  there's  a  pretty  how-de-do.  I  get 
my  orders  from  the  War  Industries  Board, 
and  I  have  to  watch  my  step,  I  tell  you. 

[133] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

However,  I  have  learned  to  tell  salvage 
from  conservation  a  mile  ofif,  by  the  smell 
I  think,  and  things  are  running  very 
smoothly.  I  am  quite  puffed  up  about  it. 
The  War  Industries  Board  notifies  us  that 
they  need  something  they  can't  buy  in  the 
open  market;  tin,  for  example.  I  send  out 
a  hurry  call  to  Red  Cross  Chapters  all  over 
the  country,  and  presently  about  twenty 
million  people  are  nosing  out  tinfoil,  pewter 
articles  and  collapsible  tubes,  like  so  many 
foxhounds  on  a  hot  scent.  We've  got  a 
great  organization  of  willing  workers.  All 
that  is  necessary  is  to  press  a  button  in  Wash- 
ington, and  the  Red  Cross  members  do  the 
rest." 

^^They  do  the  rest,  and  you  do  the  rest- 
ing?" suggested  Major  Johnson. 

^^  Words  to  that  effect,"  resumed  Kellen, 
"hackneyed  though  they  are,  have  some- 
times crossed  my  own  mind.  However, 
someone  has  got  to  press  the  button,  and 
it's  just  the  form  of  exercise  that  I  like." 

The  telephone  on  Kellen's  desk  gave  out 
a  prolonged  and  guttural  buzz,  and  he 
raised  the  receiver  to  his  ear. 

"Hello!  Yes,  I  am  ready  for  De  Sota. 
Go  ahead.     Hello!     That  you,   Merrill? 

[134] 


MUNITIONS   OF  WAR 

They  cut  us  off.  Did  you  hear  what  I  said 
last?  Make  all  your  appeals  read  4o  save 
our  men  from  German  poison  gas,'  and 
don't  use  the  word  ^masks'  on  your  life." 

Kellen  listened  for  a  few  moments  in 
silence.  Then  he  put  his  hand  over  the 
transmitter,  and  turned  to  Johnson  with  a 
grin  on  his  face. 

^^  Merrill  is  making  the  wires  positively 
crinkle,"  he  remarked.  "  Oh,  oh,  oh,  such 
language!    And  over  the  telephone,  too!" 

He  raised  the  telephone  to  his  lips. 
^^Now,  look  here,  Merrill,  I  am  obeying 
orders,  and  so  must  you.  How  can  they 
save  men  from  German  poison  gas  without 
using  masks?  Search  me.  But  that  has  got 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  We  have  got  to  do 
as  we're  told.  If  the  secret  leaks  out 
through  others,  that  isn't  our  fault.  I've 
got  a  hunch  that  some  clever  person  will 
guess  what  we  are  after.  However,  destroy 
those  posters  and  get  out  new  ones.  That's 
a  good  fellow.  You  are  doing  great  work. 
Be  happy,  now.  Good-bye.  I  am  sending 
you  a  long  letter." 

Kellen  put  the  telephone  back  on  his  desk 
and  swung  round  in  his  chair  again  towards 
Major  Johnson. 

[135] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

"  Of  course,  I  know  as  well  as  you  do  that 
men,  women  and  children  will  talk  plain 
English,  and  say  they  are  collecting  stufif 
for  gas  masks;  but  officially  the  Red  Cross 
is  merely  turning  over  certain  materials  to 
the  army  which  the  army  is  going  to  use  in 
some  way  to  protect  our  men  from  poison 
gas.    Do  you  get  me? " 

"Sure,"  answered  Major  Johnson,  "but 
don't  let  that  worry  you.  You  set  up  your 
machinery  for  making  the  collections,  and 
forget  about  the  rest  of  it.  Don't  you  bother 
with  publicity.  There  is  a  little  bird  not 
far  from  here  which  I  rather  think  will 
begin  twittering  before  long.  I  have  just 
spent  a  couple  of  hours  with  the  publicity 
man  of  the  Food  Administration." 

"  Bully  for  you,"  exclaimed  Kellen  with 
a  relieved  look. 

"  You  will  get  all  the  publicity  you  want; 
don't  worry  about  that,"  repeated  Major 
Johnson.  "For  instance,  look  at  this  little 
card  I  've  had  printed.  It  can  be  dis- 
tributed by  the  thousands.  How  does  it 
strike  you?" 

Kellen  studied  for  some  minutes  the  card 
which  Johnson  handed  him.  It  read  like 
this: 

[136] 


MUNITIONS   OF  WAR 

**  To  Save  a  Soldier^s  Life 

Turn  over  to  the  Red  Cross 
Peach-stones  Prune-pits 

Apricot-plts  Walnuts 

Plum-pits  Butternuts 

Hazel-nuts 
and  the  shells  of  those  nuts." 

"It's  all  right,"  said  Kellen;  "that  is,  if 
you  believe  it." 

"Believe  it?"  repeated  Major  Johnson. 

Kellen  shook  his  head.  He  vs^as  a  tall, 
thin,  smooth-faced  man,  vs^ith  red  hair,  and 
a  humorous  cast  of  countenance.  In  private 
life  he  v^as  a  bank  president  in  a  smaller 
city  of  the  Middle  West,  and  troubles  and 
annoyances  rolled  off  him  like  water  off  a 
duck's  back. 

"Yes,  believe  it,"  he  said.  In  spite  of 
Gen.  Morev^ood's  letter,  I  can't  help  feeling 
you  fellow^s  are  putting  something  over  on 
me.  Peach-stones  to  save  a  soldier's  life! 
Can  you  beat  it?" 

"  Modern  v^arf  are  has  many  ramifica- 
tions," opined  Johnson  v^isely. 

"You  said  something,"  agreed  Kellen, 
"but  to  think  you've  got  to  fight  with 
peach-stones  and  prune-pits  does  make  you 
sit  up.  How  do  you  put  them  into  gas 
masks  anyway?" 

[137] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

"You  burn  them,  and  make  a  sort  of 
carbon;  just  the  way  you  make  charcoal 
from  wood,"  answered  Johnson.  "Then 
the  carbon  goes  into  the  respirator  of  the 
mask,  and  the  gas  passes  through  the  carbon, 
and  the  poison  is  killed  or  purified  or 
rendered  harmless.    Understand?" 

"Certainly;  it's  as  clear  as  mud.  And 
it's  all  right,  I  suppose,"  said  Kellen. 
"  Anyhow,  I  've  got  the  whole  thing  worked 
out  already.  We  will  be  shipping  you  car- 
load lots  before  you  know  it.  America 
expects  every  peach-stone  to  do  its  duty, 
and  it's  my  job  to  see  they  do  it." 

"That's  the  talk!"  said  Major  Johnson. 
"Peach-stones  will  win  the  war,  my  boy! 
By  the  way,  though,  you  must  tell  your  peo- 
ple to  extract  the  meat  from  all  edible  nuts 
before  they  ship  them." 

"Why  so?  Can't  you  use  the  whole  nut?" 

"Perfectly  well;  but  I  had  to  promise 
the  Food  Administration  that  we  would  do 
that,  so  no  food  values  would  be  wasted." 

"Now,  look  here,  Johnson,"  exclaimed 
Kellen,  "  I  have  to  collect  platinum  by 
saying  the  government  both  wants  it  and 
doesn't  want  it;  I  have  to  go  on  tiptoe  so 
the  War  Industries  Board  won't  throw 
[138] 


MUNITIONS   OF   WAR 

fits  all  over  the  place,  and  I  have  to  do 
a  lot  of  other  things  I  don't  like ;  but  I  '11 
be  darned  if  I  ask  Red  Cross  members 
to  sit  on  their  haunches  picking  out 
food  values  from  nuts  w^ith  a  pin.  I  draw 
the  line  somewhere,  and  this  is  the  place. 
You  tell  Mr.  Herbert  Hoover  that  he  is 
going  to  have  a  meatless  day  on  these  nuts, 
or  else  forget  it." 

^^  I  think  the  latter  is  the  simpler  course," 
said  Johnson.  ''  Come  on,  I  '11  take  you  out 
to  lunch." 

The  two  walked  down  the  marble  steps 
of  Red  Cross  National  Headquarters,  and 
started  up  17th  Street.  In  the  park  op- 
posite, the  band  of  the  Engineer  Regiment 
stationed  at  Camp  Meigs  was  playing  ^^  Over 
There."  Hundreds  of  clerks  were  sitting 
on  the  grass  listening  to  the  music;  officers 
were  pouring  out  from  the  side  doors  of 
the  State,  War  and  Navy  Building  in  a 
hurry  for  lunch.  Seventeenth  Street  was 
crowded. 

^' Who  is  that?"  asked  Major  Johnson  as 
Kellen  nodded  to  a  tall,  light-haired  man 
dressed  in  grey  flannels  and  wearing  a 
rather  wide-brimmed  straw  hat. 

"It's  Bob  Stockdale,"  answered  Kellen. 

[139] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

''He's  a  civilian  in  the  Quartermaster's 
Department,  Camp  Service  Division." 

''  Good-looking,"  said  Johnson. 

''  Good  fellow,"  answered  Kellen.  "  Popu- 
lar. Everybody  likes  him.  Perhaps  there  is 
just  a  little  too  much  Bawston  about  him.  I 
think  he  looks  on  a  wooly  westerner  like  me 
as  a  new  sort  of  species.  However,  he 's  all 
right;  everybody  says  he  is  one  of  the  best." 

"Camp  Service  Division,  you  said?  By 
Jove,  I  must  get  the  army  and  navy  started 
on  this  campaign  of  ours.  I  ought  to  have 
done  it  before  now." 

''Before  now,  is  right  Do  you  mean  to 
tell  me  you  've  been  letting  our  soldiers  and 
sailors  go  on  swallowing  their  peach-stones 
all  this  time?" 

"It  shall  be  stopped  at  once;  this  after- 
noon," answered  Major  Johnson.  "Let's 
go  in  here.  It  is  as  good  a  place  to  eat  as 
any,  and  we  can  sit  outdoors." 

The  two  walked  up  the  little  flight  of 
stone  steps  leading  into  a  house  directly 
opposite  the  State,  War  and  Navy  Building 
on  Seventeenth  Street,  and  passed  through 
the  house  out  into  the  small  garden.  There 
were  a  score  or  more  of  large  and  small 
tables  ranged  about,  nearly  all  occupied, 
[140] 


MUNITIONS   OF  WAR 

and  it  was  with  some  difficulty  that  Kellen 
and  the  Major  found  seats  by  themselves  at 
a  table  at  the  end  of  the  garden  furthest 
away  from  the  street.  There  were  a  few 
women  present,  but  most  of  the  tables  were 
occupied  by  officers :  Signal  Corps,  Quarter- 
master's Department,  General  Staff,  Adju- 
tant Generals'  Department;  all  were  rep- 
resented in  the  groups  of  cheerful  citizen 
soldiers  who  chattered  and  laughed  in  the 
warm  September  sunshine.  At  a  long  table 
near  them,  Kellen  and  Johnson  could  hear 
eight  Majors  from  the  office  of  the  Judge 
Advocate  General  discussing  legal  tech- 
nicalities and  courts  martial  with  all  the 
wrapt  animation  which  laymen  reserve  for 
poetry,  art  or  affairs  of  the  heart. 

^'  I  say,"  observed  Kellen  suddenly,  rous- 
ing himself  from  what  Mr.  Weller  senior 
was  wont  to  call  a  ''  referee,"  into  which  he 
had  fallen  while  Major  Johnson  was  de- 
livering the  luncheon  order  to  the  extremely 
good-looking  waitress  who  attended  them, 
''  I  must  get  the  women  wound  up  on  this 
campaign.  It  needs  peaches  to  collect 
peach-stones  properly." 

"  Or  to  do  'most  anything  else,"  amended 
Major  Johnson. 

[141] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

"You  never  said  a  truer  word,"  agreed 
Kellen.  "As  far  as  the  Red  Cross  is  con- 
cerned, the  women  are  the  whole  thing.  It 
is  their  devotion  that  makes  the  Red  Cross. 
It's  their  organization,  really.  Red  Cross 
men,  like  myself,  are  nothing  but  go-be- 
tweens; useful,  perhaps,  —  like  knitting- 
needles, —  but  not  objects  deserving  great 
veneration.  However,  that's  neither  here 
nor  there.  I  must  select  some  principal 
peach  to  enthuse  her  sister-peaches  through- 
out the  country  in  this  campaign."  Kellen 
poured  himself  a  large  cup  of  breakfast 
coffee.  "You  don't  object  to  my  breezy, 
western  way  of  discussing  the  matter,  do 
you?"  he  asked  with  feigned  anxiety. 

"  I  was  born  in  Indiana,  in  George  Ade's 
home  town,"  answered  Major  Johnson. 

"  By  Jove,  if  I  could  get  her!"  exclaimed 
Kellen  as  he  stared  at  a  table  at  the  further 
end  of  the  garden. 

Major  Johnson  followed  his  glance,  and 
discerned,  sitting  facing  them  and  between 
two  young  girls  clad  in  the  uniform  of  the 
Red  Cross  Motor  Corps,  a  strikingly  beau- 
tiful young  woman  with  hair  which  at  this 
distance  appeared  to  be  of  the  color  of 
daffodils,  blue  eyes,  and  a  face  which  gave 
[142] 


MUNITIONS   OF   WAR 

every  appearance  of  high  breeding,  but 
which  wore  at  the  moment  a  rather  dis- 
contented expression. 

'^  I  '11  ask  her  now,"  said  Kellen,  jumping 
up.    ^^  Be  back  in  a  moment." 

Major  Johnson  kept  his  eyes  glued  on 
the  group  at  the  distant  table,  in  order  to 
observe  the  progress  of  the  negotiation.  He 
saw  Kellen  shake  hands,  and  observed  with 
what  energy  he  urged  his  request  upon  the 
beautiful  young  woman  with  the  wonderful 
hair.  She  appeared  to  be  taking  a  polite 
interest  in  the  discourse,  and  after  a  few 
moments  smiled,  and  at  length  laughed 
heartily.  Then  she  began  to  talk,  appar- 
ently with  great  rapidity,  and  finally  rose 
from  the  table  and  started  to  go  into  the 
house,  first  shaking  hands  again  with  Kellen. 
As  she  did  so  she  shook  her  head,  although 
smiling  pleasantly  at  the  moment. 

^^No  use,"  observed  Kellen,  as  he  plumped 
down  in  his  chair  opposite  Johnson.  "  The 
beautiful  Miss  Lovering  was  in  a  petulant 
mood,  and  all  my  eloquence  could  n't  move 
her.  She  is  supposed  to  be  resting  here, 
after  six  months  canteen  service  in  the  war 
zone.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  has  been 
doing  more  Red  Cross  work  over  here  than 

[143] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

any  other  woman  in  Washington.  I  never 
knew  her  to  turn  down  a  call  for  help 
before." 

'^  I  thought  she  looked  a  little  cross," 
suggested  Major  Johnson. 

^^  I  don't  know  that  I  blame  her,  really," 
answered  Kellen.  ''  She  says  she  applied 
j^esterday  to  go  back  to  the  canteen  service 
in  France.  Request  refused  because  there 
is  a  new  rule  that  women  with  near  relatives 
there  are  n't  to  be  allowed  in  the  war  zone ; 
and  she 's  got  two  brothers  who  are  officers 
in  the  77th  Division.  So  they  won't  give 
her  a  passport.  She's  as  much  pleased 
about  it  as  General  Wood  likes  being  kept 
in  Kansas.  Peach-stones  just  now  look  very 
small  to  her." 

^^A  pretty,  petulant  prima  donna, — 
what?"  observed  Major  Johnson. 

^'  Perhaps  so,"  assented  Kellen,  ^*  but  at 
any  rate,  a  perfect  peach,  and  a  record- 
beating  worker;  and  that's  what  is  needed 
in  this  business.  I  didn't  tell  her  so,  but  I 
am  going  to  wait  and  ask  her  again." 

^^Well,"  said  Johnson,  rising  from  the 
table,  ^Met's  be  moving.  I  am  going  down 
to  the  office  of  the  Camp  Service  Division 
O.  Q.  M.  G.  and  put  in  an  hour  or  two  there ; 

[144] 


MUNITIONS   OF  WAR 

with  your  friend  Stockdale,  I  suppose. 
Next  week  I  want  you  to  come  on  to  New 
York  and  help  boom  things  there.  Now 
we  have  started,  we  want  to  get  this  thing 
going  like  a  prairie  fire.  So  long,  for  the 
present." 

II 

Bob  Stockdale  walked  up  Fifth  Avenue 
in  the  bright,  early  autumn  sunshine,  with 
buoyant  step  and  a  general  feeling  of  ela- 
tion. He  had  been  ordered  to  New  York 
for  three  days  in  connection  with  an  investi- 
gation of  the  Camp  Service  Depot  there.  A 
little  change  after  the  hot  summer  in  Wash- 
ington was  very  welcome,  and  a  job  which 
was  only  remotely  connected  with  law  never 
failed  to  give  him  a  sense  of  exhilaration. 
He  drew  a  deep  breath  of  satisfaction  as 
his  gaze  travelled  along  the  most  wonderful 
city  street  in  the  world.  New  York  as- 
suredly looked  good  to  Stockdale;  but  in 
good  times  and  in  bad,  in  sickness  and  in 
health,  richer  or  poorer,  it  had  never  failed 
to  do  that.  There  used  to  be  an  old  saying, 
which  became  sadly  overworked,  that  good 
Americans  when  they  die  go  to  Paris.    As 

[145] 


AT  A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

the  accuracy  of  this  statement  was  never 
proven,  it  must  be  taken  as  an  expression  of 
hope  deferred  rather  than  as  an  official  com- 
munique.  Nobody,  however,  has  ever  been 
heard  to  question  the  adage  that  good  Bos- 
tonians  when  they  wish  to  enjoy  life  go  to 
New  York.  The  descendants  of  the  Puritans 
seem  to  lose  something  of  the  sharp  edge 
of  Calvinistic  conscience  which  protrudes 
from  all  of  them,  and  to  present  a  smooth 
and  rounded  surface  to  the  world  after 
temporary  immersion  in  the  swift  eddying 
currents  of  the  metropolitan  whirlpool. 
In  New  York  Stockdale  became  a  light- 
hearted  buccaneer  in  feelings  and  aspira- 
tions. Fifth  Avenue,  he  thought,  had  never 
looked  so  wonderful  as  now  in  war  times. 
Other  cities  displayed  flags,  but  on  Fifth 
Avenue  flags  seemed  to  blossom  forth  from 
the  buildings  on  both  sides  of  the  street 
like  flowers  in  the  garden, — French,  British, 
Italian,  and  ^^  flags  with  their  crimson  bars." 
Never  was  seen  such  a  profusion  of  color 
as  greeted  Stockdale's  eyes  when,  nearing 
Fortieth  Street,  he  paused  and  looked  up 
and  down  the  crowded  avenue. 
,  "Are  you  star  gazing,  Mr.  Stockdale?" 
he  heard  a  clear  voice  saying,  and  turning 

[146] 


MUNITIONS   OF   WAR 

he  beheld  Miss  Katherine  Lovering  look- 
ing very  trig  and  smart  in  her  dark 
blue  tailor-made  walking  dress  and  small 
black  velvet  hat  beneath  w^hich  appeared  a 
profusion  of  wonderful  dafifodil-colored 
hair. 

''  It  only  needed  this!"  exclaimed  Stock- 
dale,  shaking  the  small  gloved  hand  ex- 
tended to  him.  ^^By  Jove,  what  luck  to 
meet  you  here.  Don't  say  that  you  are  busy, 
or  have  an  engagement,  or  something  of 
that  sort,  but  walk  as  far  as  the  Park  this 
glorious  afternoon." 

Miss  Lovering  paused  a  moment  to  con- 
sider before  she  replied,  "Very  well.  It 
doesn't  do  to  be  busy  always,  does  it?" 

"I  should  say  not,"  replied  Stockdale 
fervently.  "  They  are  getting  some  figures 
ready  for  me  down  at  the  Camp  Service 
Depot,  and  I  am  off  duty  until  evening. 
Life  looks  as  cheerful  as  a  rainbow  iust  at 
present." 

"New  York  is  fun,"  conceded  Miss 
Lovering. 

"  But  you  live  here,"  said  Stockdale,  as 
though  that  made  all  the  difference. 

"  I  have  n't  really  lived  here  for  more 
than  a  year.    I  am  only  here  for  three  days 

[147] 


AT   A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

for  shopping  now.  But  I  know  what  you 
mean.  To  appreciate  New  York  at  its  full 
value,  one  must  have  been  living  in  a 
desert." 

"Are  you.  referring  to  Boston,  by  any 
chance?"  queried  Stockdale,  with  a  slightly 
aggrieved  manner. 

"  How  can  you  think  me  so  sacrilegious ! " 
laughed  Miss  Lovering.  "  I  am  afraid  F 
Street,  the  scene  of  shopping  expeditions 
in  Washington,  was  in  my  mind  at  the 
moment." 

"  Hullo! "  exclaimed  Stockdale  suddenly, 
"what  is  doing  in  front  of  the  library? 
Wild  West  Show?" 

Miss  Lovering  followed  his  gaze  with 
interest.  "Let's  cross  over  and  see,"  she 
suggested. 

Apparently  there  was  very  much  doing 
in  front  of  the  library,  at  both  ends  and  in 
the  middle.  At  the  Fortieth  Street  corner 
the  two  found  themselves  part  of  a  group  of 
two  score  or  more  individuals  who  were 
listening  attentively  to  the  fervent  harangue 
of  a  newsboy  perched  upon  the  balustrade 
of  the  library  near  the  sidewalk,  which  he 
was  using  as  a  rostrum.  The  youthful 
orator  appeared  to  be  about  twelve  years 

[148] 


MUNITIONS   OF   WAR 

old,  his  toes  were  visibly  bursting  through 
his  worn-out  shoes,  his  knickerbockers  con- 
sisted mostly  of  patches,  his  wrists  pro- 
truded a  long  way  beyond  the  sleeves  of 
the  too-tight  jacket,  but  he  tossed  his  head, 
and  waved  his  arms  with  all  the  fire  of 
Demosthenes. 

^'I  tell  yuh,"  he  shouted,  ''we're  fightin' 
to  down  otockrasy,  and  we  all  got  to  get  in 
it,  me  and  youse  and  everybuddy.  This 
is  a  free  country  we  live  in,  ain't  it?  Don't 
youse  want  to  keep  it  so!  Do  youse  want 
a  bunch  of  measly  Germans  coming 
round  here  and  giving  orders?  No,  Sir. 
No  otockrasy  for  me!  I  got  two  brothers 
over  there;  one  in  the  Marines,  and  one  of 
'em  with  the  77th  Division.  That's  our 
own  Division,  New  York,  from  Camp  Up- 
ton. I  bet  my  brothers  give  them  Germans 
sumptin'  to  think  about.  You  prob'ly  got 
brothers  or  sumptin'  over  there  too.  But 
we  ain't  there,  me  and  youse.  So  wot  have 
we  gotta  do  to  git  into  this  fight  against 
otockrasy?  We  gotta  back  'em  up,  ain't 
we?  If  we  ain't  fightin'  we  gotta  do 
sumptin';  ain't  that  right?  Me  and  youse 
knows  that.  Think  of  those  fellers  gettin' 
all  blowed  to  bits  over  there.    Gee!  I  don't 

[  149  ] 


AT   A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

like  to  think  about  it,  but  I  'd  like  to  kill  a 
few  of  them  Germans.  But  I  'm  trying  to 
do  sumptin ' ;  an'  you  can  do  sumptin'.  Buy 
War  Savings  Stamps!  I  gottem  fer  sale 
right  here.  Cum  up  now  and  put  up.  If 
you  want  to  knock  otockrasy  buy  a  War 
Savings  Stamp!" 

"I'll  take  one,"  said  Stockdale,  advanc- 
ing to  the  balustrade. 

"  That 's  good ! "  said  the  orator.  ''  Much 
obliged,  Sir!  Here's  your  change.  Keep 
it  fer  meself?  No,  thank  you;  I  couldn't 
do  that,  Sir.  Giv  it  to  de  Red  Cross.  Now 
come  on.  Somebuddy  else  want  to  giv 
otockrasy  a  knock?    Step  lively." 

"  Something  doing  in  New  York  every 
minute,"  said  Stockdale,  as  he  rejoined 
Miss  Lovering  and  the  two  moved  slowly 
along  the  crowded  sidewalk. 

"  Look  at  the  elephants ! "  exclaimed  Miss 
Lovering,  staring  ahead.  "  Elephants  half- 
way up  the  library  steps!  I  wonder  if  they 
are  in  the  fight  against  ^otockrasy'  too?" 

"  By  Jove,"  said  Stockdale,  following  her 
glance.  "This  appears  to  be  the  peach- 
stone  campaign.    We  want  to  see  this." 

There  was  a  great  crowd  in  front  of  the 
library,  filling  the  sidewalk  to  the  curb, 

[150] 


MUNITIONS   OF   WAR 

and  all  the  steps.  On  the  broad  landing 
before  the  last  flight  were  half  a  dozen 
elephants  lent  for  the  occasion  by  the  New 
York  Hippodrome  under  the  charge  of  two 
keepers.  Each  elephant  was  gloriously- 
caparisoned  with  a  crimson  cloth  covering 
most  of  its  huge  body,  and  bearing  the  words 
in  white  letters  ^^  Save  your  Peach-stones." 

At  the  top  of  the  last  flight  of  steps  stood 
Jim  Kellen,  the  loose  ends  of  his  necktie 
flowing  negligently  in  the  breeze,  his  hat 
off,  and  his  hair  ruffled.  He  also  was  ad- 
dressing the  multitude. 

Ranged  across  the  landing,  where  the 
elephants  were  standing,  were  a  great  num- 
ber of  cast-iron  barrels,  each  one  bearing 
the  legend  ^*  Throw  your  peach-stones  here 
and  save  a  soldier's  life  " ;  and  every  barrel 
was  full. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  Kellen  was  say- 
ing, "  among  the  horrible  methods  of  war- 
fare utilized  by  the  baby-killers  of  Ger- 
many, there  is  none  worse  than  poison  gas 
of  one  sort  or  another.  It  is  by  this  means 
that  many  of  our  men  have  been  made  to 
suffer  a  frightful  death.  There  is  more 
danger  in  a  gas  attack  than  in  a  hail  of 
shrapnel,  or  even  of  high  explosive  shells. 

[151] 


AT  A  DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

I  am  told  that  there  is  no  worse  agony  than 
being  gassed.  But  we  are  going  to  beat  the 
villains  at  their  own  game.  We  shall  be 
able  shortly  to  give  them  gas  compared  to 
which  their  own  will  be  like  a  waft  of 
mountain  air.  Meanwhile  we  must  pro- 
tect our  men  from  German  poison  gas,  and 
to  do  that  we  must  have  peach-stones,  fruit- 
pits  and  nut-shells.  They  make  the  carbon 
that  saves  men's  lives.  Here 's  a  work  that 
everybody  can  do." 

^^Look  at  that  rogue  elephant!"  ex- 
claimed Stockdale,  suddenly  pointing  to 
one  of  the  thick-skinned  quadrupeds  which 
wore,  in  addition  to  his  crimson  back  cover- 
ing, white  pantelettes  and  a  monster  white 
foolscap.  "Just  keep  your  eye  on  him. 
He  is  eating  up  those  peach-stones  by  the 
barrel!  Do  you  mind  waiting  for  me  a 
moment?" 

He  wedged  his  way  through  the  crowd 
until  he  reached  the  open  space,  and  called 
loudly,  "Mr.  Kellen!" 

Jim  Kellen  stopped  orating,  and  search- 
ing his  audience  discerned  Stockdale. 

*^Ah,  Dr.  Livingstone,  I  presume?"  he 
remarked. 

"  I  have  discovered  something  anyway," 
[152] 


MUNITIONS   OF   WAR 

called  back  Stockdale.  ^'  Do  you  know  that 
there  is  a  frightful  loss  of  peach-stones  tak- 
ing place  in  this  vicinity?" 

''How  so,  Mr.  Stockdale?"  queried 
Kellen. 

''Cast  your  eye  on  that  pachyderm  in 
pantelettes!"  shouted  Stockdale. 

The  attention  of  the  crowd  was  at  once 
diverted,  and  roars  of  laughter  succeeded 
the  attentive  silence  which  had  prevailed. 
The  clown  elephant  was  swinging  his  trunk 
with  methodical  precision  in  and  out  of  the 
nearest  barrel,  the  while  his  eyes  wore  an 
expression  of  calm  contentment. 

"Great  Scott!"  roared  Kellen.  "Here, 
you  keeper,  back  that  rascal  up  a  bit.  Ladies 
and  gentlemen,  the  elephants  will  now  go 
round,  and  the  band  begin  to  play.  After 
that  we  will  listen  to  a  few  remarks  from 
Mr.  Robert  Stockdale  of  the  Quarter- 
master's Department." 

The  keepers  from  the  Hippodrome  pro- 
ceeded to  put  their  charges  through  a  variety 
of  pleasing  manoeuvres,  terminated  by  the 
formation  of  a  mighty  pyramid  in  which 
all  the  elephants  stood  gracefully  on  their 
hind  legs,  while  the  band  from  the  Hippo- 
drome, seated  in  a  sight-seeing  auto-bus, 

[153] 


AT   A  DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

rendered  with  praiseworthy  zest,  ^^  Where 
do  we  go  from  here?" 

"Now,  Stockdale,"  shouted  Keilen,  as  the 
performance  ceased.  Stockdale  picked  his 
course  through  the  elephants  with  consid- 
erable circumspection,  and  mounted  to  the 
top  step  by  Kellen's  side. 

"Mr.  Keilen  and  ladies  and  gentlemen," 
he  began.  "There  is  a  good  deal  of 
speaking  going  on  in  this  vicinity,  and  I 
shall  add  to  the  turmoil  only  for  a  few 
minutes.  I  do  not  feel  myself  competent 
to  compete  either  with  the  youthful  Daniel 
Webster  on  my  right,  or  with  the  lady  in 
the  Motor  Corps  uniform  whom  I  can  hear, 
even  at  this  distance,  extolling  the  virtues 
of  Liberty  Bonds  at  the  42nd  Street  corner. 
Let  me  say  at  the  outset  that  I  have  known 
something  of  this  campaign,  and  I  desire  to 
compliment  Mr.  Keilen  of  the  Red  Cross 
on  the  way  in  which  he  has  handled  it.  He 
has  got  everybody  to  working,  and  has  kept 
them  all  in  good  humor.  In  fact,  ladies  and 
gentlemen, — and  I  trust  Mr.  Keilen  will  ex- 
cuse the  warmth  of  my  remarks,  which  come 
from  a  full  heart,  —  his  conduct  reminds 
me  of  a  recently  elected  Mayor  in  my  own 
state  who  declared  in  his  inaugural  address 

[154] 


MUNITIONS   OF   WAR 

that  he  should  forget  every  consideration 
but  duty,  and  go  forward  in  the  public 
interests  swerving  neither  to  partiality  on 
the  one  hand,  nor  to  impartiality  on  the 
other,  and  that  it  was  the  ambition  of  his 
life  to  be  like  Caesar's  wife,  —  all  things  to 
all  men !  I  want  to  tell  you  a  story  which 
I  heard  the  other  day,  and  which  seems  to 
me  the  pleasantest  of  any  that  I  have 
heard  about  the  war.  I  can't  vouch  for  its 
truth  because  I  only  heard  it  casually;  but 
it  is  so  cheery  that  I  hope  it  is  true.  There 
is  n't  one  of  us  here  who  has  n't  thrilled  with 
pride  at  the  achievement  of  the  lost  battalion 
in  the  Argonne  Forest.  You  remember  the 
men  were  entirely  cut  off  for  ten  days  with 
no  food  but  their  iron  rations,  and  no  way 
in  which  help  or  reinforcements  could  be 
brought  to  them.  In  fact,  they  were  com- 
pletely surrounded  by  the  Germans.  But 
they  held  out,  and  when  on  the  tenth  day 
the  enemy  demanded  their  surrender,  the 
commander  of  this  little  band  of  heroes, 
Major  Charles  Whittlesey,  replied  in  lan- 
guage of  unmistakable  clearness,  ^  Go  to 
Hell!'  The  lost  battalion,  as  you  know, 
was  finally  rescued.  Thank  God  for  it.  I 
am    told   that   when    Major   Whittlesey's 

[155] 


AT  A  DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

parents  heard  of  their  son's  glorious  conduct 
their  hearts  swelled  with  pride  and  joy,  but 
that  all  they  said  was  this : 

'' '  Well,'  remarked  Mr.  Whittlesey  to  his 
wife,  ^Charlie  is  a  hero  and  I  am  prouder 
of  him  than  I  can  say.  But  I  don't  know 
that  his  language  will  do  us  much  good  in 
church  circles.' " 

^^^Oh,  well,'  answered  the  mother,  ^we 
must  make  allowances.  You  know  Charlie 
always  did  get  irritable  when  he  didn't 
have  his  meals  on  time.' " 

^^  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  we  hear  these 
tales  of  valor  almost  every  day,  it  is  difficult, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  on  this  beautiful 
afternoon,  and  in  this  place,  to  realize  the 
horror  and  cruelty  and  bloodshed  that  is 
going  on  three  thousand  miles  away.  But, 
though  we  cannot  realize  the  actual  events 
with  a  seeing  eye,  our  thoughts,  our  emo- 
tions, every  instinct  of  our  beings,  are  with 
our  men  overseas.  Mr.  Kellen  has  told  you 
something  about  a  gas  attack.  Let  me  say 
a  word  as  to  what  this  so-called  peach- 
stone  campaign  really  means.  I  had  the 
facts  from  an  officer  of  the  Gas  and  Flame 
Division  of  the  army,  familiar  with  the 
subject.    At  a  certain  place  in  France  part 

[156] 


MUNITIONS   OF  WAR 

of  a  sector  was  being  held  by  a  regiment  of 
our  own  men  and  a  regiment  of  French 
soldiers.  The  gas  masks  of  the  Americans 
were  supplied  with  carbon  made  from  the 
materials  which  you  are  asked  to  collect. 
The  gas  masks  of  the  French  troops  were 
supplied  with  carbon  made  from  certain 
wood  fibres,  because  cocoanut  shells,  the 
best  material,  were  not  obtainable,  and  this 
peach-stone  campaign  had  not  progressed 
so  far  that  we  could  furnish  any  carbon  to 
our  Allies.  The  Germans,  who  were  about 
to  advance,  began  with  one  of  their  fiendish 
gas  attacks.  There  was  plenty  of  warning, 
and  both  the  French  and  our  men  had  time 
to  put  their  masks  on.  What  was  the  re- 
sult? It  was  a  new  form  of  gas,  something 
a  little  more  horrible  than  anything  which 
had  been  used  before.  The  gas  masks  of 
the  French  were  found  to  be  of  almost  no 
protection,  and  troops  as  gallant  as  any  in 
the  world  were  forced  to  retreat.  The  car- 
bon made  from  peach-stones  and  these  other 
materials,  on  the  other  hand,  worked  with 
almost  complete  efficiency.  Our  men  were 
able  to  stand  their  ground,  and  when  the 
Hun  hordes  came  over  the  top  they  found 
not  a  deserted  field,  as  they  expected,  but 

[157] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

some  thousands  of  American  doughboys 
who  met  them  with  such  a  hail  of  machine- 
gun  fire  that  the  Germans  who  were  not 
killed,  turned  tail  after  a  brief  interval  and 
ran  back  in  terror  to  their  holes  for  safety. 

"And  so,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  when  you 
add  to  these  materials  imperatively  required 
by  the  Gas  and  Flame  Division  of  the  army, 
you  are  not  only  helping  to  save  the  lives  of 
our  men  overseas,  but  you  are  actively  tak- 
ing part  in  winning  the  war.  It  is  the  whole 
mighty  volume  of  endeavor  which  counts, 
and  anyone  who  disdains  to  help  because 
the  form  of  service  is  small  or,  in  his  opin- 
ion, not  commensurate  with  his  abilities  or 
ambitions,  is  one  who  has  failed  to  play  his 
part  in  the  great  adventure.  Our  gallant 
soldiers  are  keeping  faith  in  the  face  of 
death  and  desolation;  we  must  not  fail  in 
little  things.  I  ask  you  to  give  three  cheers 
for  the  Red  Cross,  which  has  undertaken 
the  task  of  handling  this  vital  campaign  for 
the  army." 

As  Stockdale  and  Miss  Lovering  walked 
away  from  the  library,  the  latter  remarked 
in  quiet  tones,  "  I  had  not  expected  to  hear 
an  oration  from  you,  Mr.  Stockdale.  War 
is  dreadful,  but  still  not  without  its  delight- 
[158] 


MUNITIONS   OF   WAR 

ful  surprises.  Is  that  the  way  you  act  in 
Boston?" 

Stockdale  paused  a  moment  in  thought 
before  replying. 

^^  I  don't  know  that  it  is  exactly,"  he 
answered. 

"  Do  you  mind  going  round  by  the  Grand 
Central  Station  and  stopping  there  a  mo- 
ment while  I  send  a  telegram?"  asked  Miss 
Lovering.  ''  Mr.  Kellen  will  be  back  in 
Washington  tomorrow,  won't  he?" 

^^  Tonight,  he  said,"  answered  Stockdale. 

Stockdale  stood  a  little  apart,  gazing  up 
into  the  blue  ceiling  studded  with  silver 
stars  over  the  great  waiting-room  of  the 
station.  At  the  moment  it  seemed  to  him 
that  there  could  be  few  more  beautiful 
buildings  in  the  world  than  this,  and  that  it 
somehow  expressed  the  joyousness  of  New 
York.  Miss  Lovering  wrote  out  her  tele- 
gram.   It  read: 

**  James  Kellen, 

American  Red  Cross, 
Washington,  D.  C. 
If  there  is  still  a  chance  for  me  to  help  in 
peach-stone  campaign  please  count  on  me.    Any 
sort  of  work  will  do  but  I  want  to  help  awfully. 
Katherine  Lovering." 

[159] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

"I  have  jfinished,"  said  Miss  Lovering, 
turning  to  Stockdale.  ''  What  a  lot  we  have 
accomplished,  and  there  is  still  time  for  our 
walk,  isn't  there?" 

They  strolled  out  of  the  station,  down 
44th  Street,  turned  up  Fifth  Avenue  and, 
facing  the  setting  sun,  walked  slowly 
towards  the  Park,  quiet,  thoughtful  and 
happy. 


[160] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

I 

MAJOR  MiXTER  of  the  Signal  Corps 
was  frequently  alluded  to  in  con- 
nection with  the  phrase  ''  the  salt 
of  the  earth,"  which  was  a  pity,  as  it  robbed 
the  language  of  the  precise  words  needed 
to  describe  his  wife.  Mrs.  Mixter  had  been 
a  famous  beauty  in  her  youth,  and  now  in 
middle  age  was  a  strikingly  handsome 
matron.  Candor  compels  the  admission 
that  she  manifested  a  decided  tendency  to 
what  may  politely  be  called  amplitude  in 
her  still  fine  figure;  but  her  complexion  was 
that  of  a  child,  her  large  hazel  eyes  were 
like  those  attributed  by  Virgil  to  Juno, 
there  were  few  silver  threads  among  the 
gold  of  her  hair,  and  she  might  still  have 
sat  for  the  picture  of  a  Gainsborough 
Duchess.  When  she  was  a  young  girl  she 
had  been  laughingly  called  by  her  com- 
panions "the  aristocrat,"  and  if  the  word 
is  taken  in  its  true  meaning,  Mrs.  Mixter 

[163] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

was  still  a  simon-pure  aristocrat,  and  would 
never  be  anything  else.  There  was  such 
perfect  poise  in  her  bearing  and  such  gra- 
cious dignity  in  her  manners  that  it  was  a 
rest  merely  to  be  in  her  presence.  She  did 
not  know  what  it  was  to  fuss  or  fret,  and 
had  never  been  "  rattled  "  in  her  life. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  circumstances 
had  contributed  to  make  such  a  happy  state 
of  affairs  possible.  Born  rich  and  to  a  posi- 
tion that  made  care  as  to  worldly  matters 
not  only  unnecessary  but  a  patent  absurdity, 
Mary  Livingstone  as  a  girl  had  not  allowed 
her  mind  to  concern  itself  with  mean  or 
petty  interests.  Without  effort  she  came, 
she  saw,  she  conquered.  She  was  not  in- 
tellectually brilliant  and  disdained  mere 
cleverness,  but  her  sane  good  sense  was 
abounding  and  her  outlook  on  life  was  as 
broad  as  it  was  charitable.  Whether  it  was 
a  question  of  selecting  the  guests  for  a  dinner 
party  or  advising  her  husband  as  to  one  of 
the  momentous  problems  which  were  con- 
stantly arising  as  to  his  career,  she  was  as 
certain  to  do  the  right  thing  as  the  four 
seasons  of  the  year  were  to  roll  round  in 
their  course.  Indeed,  to  her  husband  Mary 
Mixter  was  at  once  a  beacon  light  and  a 

[164] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

sheet  anchor.  Without  her  steadying  in- 
fluence there  is  no  knowing  to  what  erratic 
courses  his  lively  imagination  and  im- 
petuous fancies  might  have  led  him. 

There  was  nothing  arbitrary  or  impera- 
tive about  this  influence.  Major  Mixter 
never  felt  the  slightest  sense  of  restraint. 
The  anchor  rope  was  long  enough  to  allow 
him  not  only  to  ride  with  the  tide,  but  to 
swing  freely  about  to  different  points  of  the 
compass  as  winds  of  chance  or  whim  varied. 
But  he  never  got  adrift.  Mrs.  Mixter  did 
not,  perhaps  could  not,  share  actively  in  all 
her  husband's  kaleidoscopic  interests,  but 
the  realization  that  she  was  always  there  be- 
hind him,  true  and  constant  as  the  polar  star, 
gave  him  a  sense  of  security  and  confidence 
which  was  the  greatest  factor  in  his  happi- 
ness. Jack  Mixter  and  his  wife  understood 
each  other  perfectly,  and  this  was  as  much 
responsible  for  their  happiness  as  the  fact 
that  neither  had  ceased  to  adore  the  other 
as  the  ideal  of  all  that  was  best  and  most 
lovable  in  life. 

"Jack,"  said  Mrs.  Mixter  at  breakfast 
one  morning  in  about  the  middle  of  the 
month  of  September,  1918,  "I  have  been 
thinking  about  that  little  Jew  you  called 

[165] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

over  to  our  table  when  we  were  lunching 
at  the  Shoreham  yesterday  and  introduced 
to  me.  He  talked  very  nicely;  somehow  I 
can't  seem  to  get  him  out  of  my  mind.  He 
appeared  to  me  to  be  a  sick  man."  Mrs. 
Mixter's  habitual  manner  of  speaking 
was  leisurely  and  deliberate;  in  fact  might 
be  described  as  a  pleasantly  modulated 
drawl. 

*^That  is  what  Bob  Stockdale  has  been 
saying  for  the  last  three  weeks,"  answered 
her  husband.  *^  Rosenthal  is  in  his  office, 
and  Stockdale  is  quite  worried  about  him. 
I  am  sorry,  because  Rosenthal  is  a  good 
fellow." 

^^Hear,  hear!"  chorused  Lieut.  William 
Eccles,  U.  S.  N.,  who  had  been  Major 
Mixter's  house  guest  since  late  spring,  and 
was  for  the  time  being  quite  a  member  of 
the  family.  "I  had  a  long  session  with 
Rosenthal  the  other  day  about  some  old 
junk  at  the  Brooklyn  Navy  Yard.  He 
knows  his  business  and  is  sincere  and  single- 
minded.  He  has  got  his  eye  right  on  his 
job.  He  taught  a  lot  to  little  Willie,  but 
then  I  'm  a  good  pupil." 

Major  Mixter  smiled  sardonically. 
^^Yes,  you  are,"  he  remarked,  obviously 
[i66] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

Speaking  by  contraries.  ^^  How  about  that 
time  you  passed  on  the  orders  for  camou- 
flaging the  transport  Mudjekeewis,  and 
got  the  blue  where  the  pink  ought  to  be? 
Lord  knows  what  would  have  happened  if 
they  had  n't  discovered  the  mistake  in  time. 
Another  score  for  the  little  U-boats,  I  guess, 
due  to  our  old  shore-going  sea-dog.  Did 
I  tell  you  about  that,  Molly?  Poor  old 
Bill  here  —  " 

"Really,"  said  Mrs.  Mixter,  "I  think  I 
know  all  I  need  about  poor  old  Bill  and  poor 
young  Jack.  He  is  only  ten  years  older  than 
you,  Billy,  but  of  course  still  a  mere  child. 
What  I  am  interested  in  now  is  poor  Mr. 
Rosenthal.    Tell  me  about  him." 

"Let  the  jolly  tar  try  his  hand,"  said 
Major  Mixter  as  he  poured  himself  a  sec- 
ond cup  of  coffee.  "  He  has  spun  many  a 
stirring  yarn  by  the  galley  fire  at  the  corner 
of  17th  and  G  Streets.  It  is  about  all  he 
does  do,  too." 

"  If  rude  Boreas  will  cease  from  railing 
a  moment,"  remarked  Eccles,  "  I  '11  tell  you 
all  about  Rosenthal  in  two  two's,  Molly. 
He  is  a  junk  dealer;  home  town,  Cleveland, 
Ohio;  position  in  Washington,  Principal 
Assistant,  Junk  Section,  Camp  Service  Divi- 

[167] 


AT  A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

sion,  Office  of  Quartermaster  General;  age, 
forty-nine  years,  —  I  asked  him ;  color,  out- 
side approximately  white,  or  Caucasian, 
inside  unqualifiedly  white;  hours  of  labor, 
8.30  A.  M.  to  9.30  P.  M.,  except  on  Saturdays, 
when  he  knocks  off  at  six  and  goes  back  to 
his  hotel  room  to  have  an  outing, — writing 
to  his  family;  favorite  avocation  or  amuse- 
ment, not  known ;  favorite  colors,  red,  white 
and  blue;  height,  five  feet  five  inches; 
weight,  less  than  it  was.  How  is  that,  Jack? 
Pretty  accurate?" 

^^Not  bad,"  assented  Mixter  genially. 
^^  A  very  good  sort  of  rude,  rough  outline; 
quite  all  that  could  be  expected  from  an 
uneducated  man.  I  need  only  add  that  he 
has  a  wife  and  one  child,  a  son,  who  was  a 
senior  at  Harvard  at  the  time  when  we  got 
into  the  war,  and  who  is  in  France  with 
the  26th  Division;  the  so-called  Yankee 
Division,  consisting  of  National  Guard 
troops.  He  hasn't  brought  Mrs.  Rosenthal 
on  to  Washington  because  he  wants  to  keep 
his  own  house  open  ^  in  case,'  as  he  puts  it, 
^  anything  should  happen.'  Besides,  Mrs. 
Rosenthal  is  one  of  the  head  Red  Crossers 
in  Cleveland,  and  he  thinks  her  duty  lies 
there.  Rosenthal  is  a  tremendous  worker, 
[168] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

clear-headed  and  able,  but,  like  so  many 
Jews,  sensitive  and  with  a  good  deal  of 
temperament." 

Mrs.  Mixter  nodded  her  head.  ^^  How 
did  you  find  all  that  out,  Jack?"  she  asked. 

^^  I  was  in  the  same  office  for  a  while," 
answered  her  husband,  ^^and  saw  a  good 
deal  of  him." 

'^  You  were  with  the  Camp  Service  Divi- 
sion last  Spring,  weren't  you?"  said  Mrs. 
Mixter.     ''  I  had  almost  forgotten." 

^^No  wonder,"  observed  Eccles.  *^That 
was  his  last  job  but  six.  However,  he  made 
quite  a  stay  there.  They  didn't  find  him 
out  for  nearly  three  months." 

''  General  Gish  asked  me  to  come  back 
there  again  only  yesterday,"  said  Mixter, 
grinning. 

^'My  husband  is  a  very  popular  person," 
observed  Mrs.  Mixter,  "  and  of  course 
everyone  wants  him.  You  ought  to  know 
that,  Billy."     . 

^^  Love  is  blind,"  returned  Lieut.  Eccles, 
as  he  transferred  a  poached  egg  to  his  plate. 

^^What  you  both  say,"  pursued  Mrs. 
Mixter  somewhat  meditatively,  ^'  really 
quite  convinces  me.  Yes,  I  am  sure  I  am 
right." 

[169] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

"  You  would  n't  be  likely  to  be  anything 
else,"  observed  Eccles  seriously. 

^^True  for  you,  Billy!"  said  Mixter. 
^^Tell  us  what  you  have  been  thinking, 
Molly." 

''  That  the  little  man  I  met  yesterday  is 
overworked  almost  to  the  verge  of  a  break- 
down ;  and,  worse  than  that,  is  deadly  home- 
sick, and  lonely  to  a  degree  that  neither  of 
you  could  understand.  It  has  worn  him 
down  to  the  raw  edge  of  his  whole  being. 
In  fact,  he  is  going  to  have  a  complete  col- 
lapse very  soon,  physical  and  mental,  if  he 
isn't  taken  in  hand." 

Mixter  and  Eccles  looked  suddenly 
serious.  It  never  occurred  to  either  of  them 
to  question  Mrs.  Mixter's  estimate  of  the 
situation. 

*^  I  did  n't  know  it  was  as  bad  as  that," 
said  the  former  in  rather  startled  tones. 

^^Has  he  any  special  friends  here?"  in- 
quired Mrs.  Mixter. 

Her  husband  knitted  his  brows  in 
thought.  It  was  a  problem  he  had  not 
hitherto  considered,  and  already  he  began 
to  feel  pangs  of  a  conscience  which,  al- 
though somewhat  of  the  happy-go-lucky 
variety,  needed  only  a  trifling  stimulus  to 
[170] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

become  almost  morbidly  acute  where  the 
welfare  of  others  was  concerned.  One 
word  his  wife  had  uttered  had  pierced  his 
tender  heart  as  though  a  knife  had  been 
driven  through  it,  —  "lonely."  To  Jack 
Mixter,  with  friends  as  numerous  as  trees 
in  a  forest,  and  whose  gregarious  nature 
demanded  companionship  for  every  one  of 
his  waking  hours,  the  idea  that  anyone 
should  be  going  about  the  world  "  lonely " 
represented  the  acme  of  desolation.  He 
had  always  understood,  of  course,  that  there 
were  certain  strange  individuals  who,  for 
some  inexplicable  reason,  did  not  care  for 
people.  It  was  natural  for  him  to  place  in 
this  class  anyone  who  appeared  in  greater 
or  less  degree  to  lead  a  solitary  life.  It  was 
not  to  be  supposed  that  in  a  world  brimming 
over  with  agreeable  people  anyone  should 
lack  pleasant  companionship  if  he  desired 
it.  But  here  was  a  man  whom  the  casual 
chance  of  war  times  had  thrown  in  his  path, 
and  therefore  someone  to  be  considered  and 
if  possible  made  comfortable  and  happy,  in 
a  most  lamentable  condition.  Rosenthal,  it 
appeared,  was  lonely — so  lonely  that  it  was 
wearing  him  down  to  the  raw.  This  was 
a  nice  how-de-do.    And  all  he,  Mixter,  had 

[171] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

done  about  it  was  to  chat  pleasantly  when  he 
happened  to  meet  Rosenthal.  He  was 
genuinely  disturbed  when  he  answered  his 
wife's  question. 

^^No,"  he  said,  ^^he  hasn't  any  special 
friends,  so  far  as  I  know.  Stockdale  is  quite 
chummy  with  him." 

^^ Chummy?"  queried  Mrs.  Mixter. 

^^  Talks  with  him  a  lot  when  things  are 
slow  at  the  office;  is  really  interested  in 
him,  you  know,  and  all  that,"  replied  her 
husband. 

*^Goes  out  to  lunch  with  him  perhaps?" 
suggested  Mrs.  Mixter. 

^^Very  likely,"  answered  Mixter.  ^^I 
don't  really  know." 

^^' Do  you?" 

"Do  I  what?" 

"Go  out  to  lunch  with  him?" 

"I  never  happened  to,"  said  Major  Mix- 
ter. "  I  wish  I  had."  He  was  by  this  time 
looking  quite  miserable. 

Mrs.  Mixter  smiled  at  her  husband  across 
the  table. 

"  Now,  Jack,"  she  counselled  him,  "  don't 
let  that  runaway  conscience  of  yours  start 
galloping.  You  haven't  done  anything 
wrong.    I  wanted  to  find  out  what  the  facts 

[172] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

were  before  I  made  any  suggestions.  How 
would  it  do  to  ask  Mr.  Rosenthal  to  send 
for  his  wife  and  for  both  of  them  to  make 
us  a  two  weeks  visit  here?  He  won't  go 
away  evidently,  and  yet  he  must  be  taken 
out  of  himself  somehow  if  he  is  going  to 
get  well  at  all." 

The  clouds  fled  from  Major  Mixter's 
face.  That  terrible  word  ^4onely"  was 
going  to  receive  the  knock-out  blow  it  de- 
served. Hardly  had  he  begun  to  experience 
a  sense  of  relief  on  this  score,  however,  when 
what  remained  of  his  pre-war,  conventional 
attitude  towards  life  stirred  a  trifle  uneasily 
and  propounded  the  suggestion  that  to  have 
the  Rosenthals  as  house  guests  was  a  some- 
what radical  experiment.  His  answer  to  his 
wife's  proposal  reflected  a  decidedly  mixed 
state  of  mind. 

''By  Jove,  that's  a  bully  idea,  Molly," 
he  exclaimed.  ^^You  are  a  wonder.  But 
do  you  really  want  to  do  it?  Rosenthal  is 
a  good  fellow,  as  I  've  said ;  but —  Besides, 
you  can't  tell  what  his  wife  would  be  like. 
It's  risking  a  nuisance  to  have  them  here, 
isn't  it?" 

Mrs.  Mixter  had  already  decided  pre- 
cisely what  should  be  done  if  the  proposed 

[173] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

visit  turned  out  to  create  an  impossible 
situation  when  it  actually  took  place.  It 
was  not  her  habit,  however,  to  lay  bare  all 
her  mental  processes,  even  to  her  husband. 
Perhaps  this  self-restraint  was  in  part  the 
secret  of  her  influence. 

*^Why  do  you  think  I  left  the  children 
and  came  back  to  Washington  a  full  month 
earlier  than  we  had  planned?  "  she  asked. 

'^  I  rather  supposed  it  was  to  see  me." 
replied  her  husband  in  quite  confident 
tones. 

*^  To  take  care  of  you,"  corrected  his  wife, 
'^and  of  your  friends,  so  far  as  they  need 
taking  care  of." 

^*That  means  me,  for  one,"  interjected 
Lieut.  Eccles.  '^  I  am  about  fed-up  with 
Jack  and  other  masculine  society." 

''  Men  who  have  put  their  shoulder  to  the 
wheel  to  help  out  are  your  friends.  Jack," 
went  on  Mrs.  Mixter.  "  I  know  you  too 
well  to  doubt  that.  There  are  only  two 
kinds  of  people  for  me  in  the  world  today: 
those  whose  hearts  are  in  the  task  of  beating 
the  silly  Germans,  and  others.  I  haven't 
time  or  inclination  to  make  smaller  distinc- 
tions. Mr.  Rosenthal  quite  evidently  is 
willing  to  share  in  the  horrid  work  that  the 

[174] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

decent  people  of  the  world  are  uniting  to 
do;  work  as  dreadful  as  cleaning  out  a 
neglected  sewer,  or  putting  down  a  riot  in 
an  insane  asylum.  You  won't  get  me  to 
pretend  that  there  is  anything  good  about 
war,  Jack.  I  see  too  much  of  its  misery, 
even  here  where  we  are  all  really  quite  out 
of  it.  Now,  please  telephone  Mr.  Rosenthal 
today.  Find  out  the  address  of  his  wife, 
and  I  will  write  to  her.  Tell  him  we  want 
them  to  come  as  soon  as  possible.'^ 

"  I  suppose  I  know  him  well  enough  to 
ask  them?"  said  Major  Mixter  in  a  semi- 
interrogative  tone,  being  in  truth  still  in  a 
rather  perplexed  state  of  mind  at  the  novelty 
of  his  wife's  proposal. 

"If  I  were  a  nurse  in  a  hospital  in 
France,"  answered  his  wife,  "  I  should  n't 
feel  it  at  all  necessary  to  consider  my  degree 
of  acquaintanceship  with  a  wounded  soldier 
before  I  decided  whether  I  could  take  care 
of  him  or  not." 

"After  all,"  suggested  Mixter,  "the  case 
is  n't  quite  the  same.  Rosenthal  is  n't  in  the 
trenches." 

"No,"  agreed  Mrs.  Mixter,  her  cus- 
tomary drawl  becoming  a  trifle  more  pro- 
nounced, "  and  from  a  man's  point  of  view 

[175] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

that  makes  all  the  difference.  Because  he 
isn't  in  the  trenches  he  may  suffer  agonies 
and  not  deserve  any  consideration.  It 
does  n't  matter  in  the  least  whether  he  eats 
his  heart  out  or  cripples  himself  for  life  or 
dies.  He  is  not  in  the  trenches,  and  con- 
sequently it  is  rather  an  outrage  to  think  of 
him  at  all.  I  know  perfectly  well,  without 
your  telling  me,  that  that  is  the  way  you 
men  feel.  Of  course,  you  would  all  think 
precisely  alike  about  it;  just  like  a  lot  of 
sheep.  It  wouldn't  be  the  thing  to  have 
any  independent  ideas.  It  would  be  horrible 
to  say  what  you  really  thought;  worse 
than  horrible,  it  would  be  eccentric.  Sheep 
mustn't  be  eccentric.  But  I'm  a  woman, 
Jack,  and  I  am  not  the  least  bit  afraid  of 
describing  things  as  they  are." 

Mrs.  Mixter  paused  for  a  moment,  and 
then  went  on,  with  a  little  laugh.  '*Talk 
about  men  calling  a  spade  a  spade,  —  they 
would  have  to  make  the  most  minute  in- 
vestigation as  to  popular  opinion  before 
they  assumed  the  risk  of  even  calling  it  a 
shovel." 

Mrs.  Mixter's  humor  was  not  precisely 
scintillating,  but  such  as  it  was  it  gave  her 
great  satisfaction. 

[176] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

^^  You  won't  mind  if  we  have  them,  will 
you,  Billy?"  queried  Major  Mixter. 

^^Mind?"  repeated  the  Lieutenant. 
''  I  '11  eat  it  up." 

Mixter  rose  from  his  chair,  and  going 
to  a  side  table  selected  a  cigarette  and 
lighted  it. 

"  It's  time  we  were  off,"  he  said.  "  I  '11 
do  my  best,  Molly,  to  make  Rosenthal  feel 
we  want  them." 

'^  No  one  can  do  that  sort  of  thing  better 
than  you,  Jack,"  replied  Mrs.  Mixter. 

II 

After  reporting  at  his  own  office.  Major 
Mixter  ran  down  in  his  car  to  the  corner 
of  loth  and  N  Streets,  where  the  Camp 
Service  Division  O.  Q.  M.  G.  was  located. 
A  personal  interview,  he  decided,  was  better 
than  the  telephone.  Mrs.  Mixter  had  done 
her  husband  no  more  than  justice  when  she 
said  he  did  this  sort  of  thing  well.  Execu- 
tion was  Jack  Mixter's  strong  point.  Molly 
might  suggest  a  kindly  action,  but  not  even 
she  could  perform  it  more  gracefully  than 
her  husband.  On  the  whole,  as  good  Sa- 
maritans they  were  an  effective  team. 

[177] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

''  Hello,  Rosenthal,"  said  Major  Mixter. 
^^  I  thought  I  would  look  you  up  this  morn- 
ing. I  've  got  something  I  want  to  ask 
you." 

The  little  man  seated  behind  the  large 
desk  raised  his  eyes  in  response  to  the  greet- 
ing and  a  pleased  smile  came  over  his  worn 
face. 

^^  Awfully  glad  to  see  you.  Major,"  he 
said.  "  Sit  down.  It  always  seems  natural 
and  pleasant  to  have  you  back  here,  even  if 
it's  only  for  a  call." 

Major  Mixter  took  a  chair  and  gave  a 
searching  though  apparently  casual  look 
at  the  man  he  had  come  to  see. 

Mr.  Rosenthal's  small  figure  somehow 
looked  very  thin  and  wasted.  There  were 
black  circles  under  his  pale  blue  eyes. 
The  disproportionately  large  nose  looked 
pinched  and  sharp,  and  the  thin  hair, 
brushed  back  over  his  bald  head,  gave  him 
an  almost  uncanny  and  gnome-like  aspect. 
His  hands  fluttered  to  and  fro  over  the  desk, 
and  he  seemed  all  the  time  to  be  bracing 
himself  for  an  effort.  It  was  as  though  he 
feared  what  might  happen  if  he  permitted 
himself  to  relax. 

A  little  more  than  a  year  ago  Julius 

[178] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

Rosenthal  had  been  asked  to  come  to  Wash- 
ington because  an  expert  junk  man  was 
needed  to  help  handle  problems  having  to 
do  with  the  salvage  of  waste  in  the  great 
cantonments  and  army  posts  that  had  sprung 
up  all  over  the  country,  and  Rosenthal  was 
one  of  the  best  known  men  in  the  United 
States  in  that  sort  of  business.  Overjoyed 
that  it  was  thought  he  could  be  of  assistance 
to  the  nation  in  its  dark  hour  he  had  set  out 
full  of  the  spirit  of  sacrifice  and  eager  to 
place  his  services  at  the  disposal  of  the  mili- 
tary authorities  who  had  called  for  him. 
He  had  thrown  himself  heart  and  soul  into 
his  work,  and  made  his  section  the  most  effi- 
cient in  the  whole  Camp  Service  Division; 
but  it  had  been  a  constant  fight  against  dis- 
couragement, hampering  conditions  and 
abnormal  methods.  The  military  way  of 
conducting  business  made  him  feel  as 
though  he  were  working  in  a  straight- 
jacket.  He  could  not  accustom  himself  to 
the  interminable  red  tape  involved  in  even 
a  simple  transaction,  and  more  or  less  un- 
consciously harbored  a  smouldering  re- 
sentment that  such  things  were  thought 
necessary.  With  few  exceptions  he  found 
people  in  Washington  hard  and  self-cen- 

[179] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

tered,  and  so  outside  of  office  hours  he  stuck 
very  closely  to  his  hotel  near  the  Capitol, 
having  practically  no  amusement  and  little 
companionship.  Thoughts  he  had  in 
plenty:  about  the  queerness  of  the  life  he 
was  leading,  almost  as  strange  as  though  he 
had  been  condemned  to  live  with  aborig- 
ines in  a  tree-house  in  Borneo;  about  the 
incredible  reports  he  read  in  the  news- 
papers of  doings  on  the  western  front;  about 
his  son  actually  there,  —  there  where  the 
noise  alone  drove  men  insane.  Sometimes 
his  heart  would  stop  beating  and  the  blood 
in  his  veins  turn  to  ice.  He  could  not  make 
things  seem  real.  Life  was  all  upside  down ; 
a  chaos;  a  bad  dream.  Some  months  ago 
he  had  been  surprised  and  disturbed  to  find 
himself  completely  tired  out  after  a  day's 
work  but  gradually  had  come  to  realize  that 
it  needed  every  atom  of  his  strength  to  get 
through  his  daily  round.  To  do  that  he 
was  doggedly  determined;  whether  he 
should  ever  be  able  to  do  more  had  become 
a  matter  of  indifiference. 

"  My  wife  and  I  want  you  and  Mrs. 
Rosenthal  to  make  us  a  little  visit,"  said 
Mixter.  ^^We  are  all  alone  now,  except 
for   Eccles,    and   he   doesn't   count.     We 

[i8o] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

thought  it  would  be  a  good  chance  to  see 
something  of  people  before  the  children 
come  on.  It 's  a  fearfully  big  house,  and  as 
dreary  as  a  barn  when  there 's  no  one  there 
but  ourselves.  We  mean  to  ask  several 
people  before  November,  but  only  one 
couple  at  a  time,  because  that  is  really  more 
comfortable.  We  wish  you  would  come  as 
soon  as  Mrs.  Rosenthal  can  get  on  here. 
I  hope  you  will  both  give  us  the  pleasure 
of  your  company  for  a  couple  of  weeks." 

Julius  Rosenthal  looked  at  Major  Mixter 
with  something  like  panic  in  his  eyes. 
Only  last  night  he  had  lain  awake  for  hours 
dreading  that  he  would  be  unable  to  an- 
swer a  letter  on  the  morrow,  or  reply 
accurately  to  some  question  of  his  chief, 
because  his  mind  had  suddenly  become  a 
blank.  It  seemed  as  though  already  he 
had  all  the  problems  to  deal  with  that  he 
could  possibly  face,  and  here  was  another, 
and  of  a  new  and  unaccustomed  sort.  His 
head  gave  a  quick,  jerky,  involuntary  shake. 

^'That  is  so  nice  of  you,"  he  said,  in  an- 
swer to  Major  Mixter's  suggestion,  "  and 
so  kind  of  your  wife.  Thank  her  for  me. 
But  I  am  afraid  it  is  impossible.  You  see. 
Major,  I  am  very  much  tied  down.    And 

[i8i] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

Rebecca,  my  wife,  couldn't  leave  home,  I 
am  sure.  You  see,  there  is  so  much  to  do 
that  we  must  all  save  our  strength  for  that. 
No,  Major,  you're  very  good,  but  it  is 
impossible." 

As  the  difficulties  involved  in  stepping 
outside  the  routine  life  he  had  lived  for 
many  months  presented  themselves  to  Ro- 
senthal's mind,  his  fears  grew  and  he  be- 
came excited. 

^^No,  no.  Major,''  he  went  on  in  plead- 
ing tones,  "  it  would  n't  do  at  all.  You  are 
very  kind,  but  I  really  couldn't  leave  my 
present  quarters  even  for  a  little  while. 
And  Rebecca  —  she  is  very  much  of  a 
home  body.  And  then  my  boy,  Ralph  — 
he  writes  to  me  at  my  hotel  here,  and  there 
would  be  a  delay  in  my  getting  letters.  No, 
Major,  you  are  very  kind,  but  I  think  you 
had  best  just  let  it  alone." 

The  tones  became  supplicating.  Sud- 
denly Rosenthal  felt  as  though  he  could  not 
endure  the  presence  of  a  visitor  who 
brought  with  him  such  a  disturbing  atmos- 
phere for  a  moment  longer.  Besides,  there 
was  creeping  over  him  that  longing,  which 
he  hated  but  could  not  resist,  to  indulge  in 
thoughts  he  dreaded^.  On  a  recent  trip 
[182] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

back  from  New  York  his  train  had  stopped 
for  several  minutes  opposite  a  troop-train 
going  in  the  opposite  direction.  The  spec- 
tacle that  then  met  his  eyes  had  since  that 
time  appeared  with  startling  vividness  at 
unexpected  moments.  Hundreds  and  hun- 
dreds of  strong,  vigorous,  happy-looking 
young  men  penned  up  like  cattle,  and  like 
cattle  being  sent  forth  to  slaughter.  Why 
could  n't  some  one,  any  one,  stop  such  hor- 
rors? Rosenthal  wanted  to  think;  it  be- 
came necessary  to  him  to  get  rid  of  Major 
Mixter,  politely  if  possible;  but  at  any  rate 
to  make  him  go.  His  eyes  fell  on  a  mass 
of  correspondence  on  his  desk. 

^^  It 's  awfully  nice  to  see  you.  Major,"  he 
went  on,  "  and  I  can't  tell  you  how  glad  I 
am  you  looked  in.  But  I  know  you  are 
busy,  and  you  must  n't  waste  too  much  time 
here." 

He  gazed  fixedly  at  the  letters  on  his 
desk. 

"  Now,  look  here,  old  man,"  said  Major 
Mixter,  ^'  I  know  just  how  you  are  feeling, 
because  I  went  through  the  same  thing  my- 
self once,  —  five  years  ago.  You're  in  a 
rut,  and  that  isn't  a  safe  place  to  stay,  es- 
pecially in  times  like  these.     Besides,  you 

[183] 


AT  A  DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

are  trying  to  take  in  this  whole  war  in  one 
gulp.  It  can't  be  done.  Attempting  it  just 
makes  your  thoughts  go  round  and  round 
like  a  squirrel  in  a  cage.  ^  Sufficient  unto 
the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.'  That  means,  as 
I  understand  it,  take  things  as  they  come 
day  by  day.  You  can't  handle  all  the  events 
of  the  next  six  months  this  morning.  You 
are  all  right,  of  course;  there  is  really  noth- 
ing the  matter  with  you;  but  we  all  have 
to  have  a  little  change  now  and  then." 

Rosenthal  stiffened  in  his  chair  as  though 
suddenly  galvanized  by  Major  Mixter's  re- 
marks, but  only  said  with  something  of  a 
catch  in  his  voice,  ''  I  don't  think  Ralph  is 
getting  much  change." 

^'You  don't  really  know  anything  about 
it,"  said  Mixter  emphatically.  ^'For  all 
you  know,  he  may  be  having  the  time  of  his 
life;  at  any  rate,  I  will  bet  he  never  felt  in 
such  good  health  in  his  life." 

Mr.  Rosenthal  shook  his  head. 

"  For  all  I  know,  he  may  be  lying  dead 
at  this  moment,"  he  said.  He  stared  at  the 
wall  opposite,  and  a  shudder  passed  over 
his  spare  frame. 

*^  I  know  how  you  feel,"  said  Mixter, 
"  but  it  is  n't  the  right  way  to  f  eelj  just  the 

[184] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

same.  The  question  is  how  your  wife  is 
feeling;  think  of  her  a  little  bit.  Would  n't 
it  cheer  her  up  to  come  on  and  be  with  you 
for  a  while?  Don't  you  want  to  see  your 
wife?" 

Rosenthal  stared  at  the  speaker.  Want 
to  see  Rebecca?  Was  Major  Mixter  trying 
to  insult  a  sorely  harassed  man?  Why,  if 
he  could  only  see  Rebecca  the  whole  world 
would  look  different;  the  terrible  difficul- 
ties which  piled  up  higher  and  higher  every 
day  would  disappear  as  if  by  magic;  he 
would  breathe  freely;  he  could  sleep  at 
night,  actually  sleep.  But  what  was  the  use 
of  yearning  to  see  his  wife?  He  had  gone 
over  all  that  in  his  mind  many  times,  and 
it  was  not  likely  that  a  stranger  like  Major 
Mixter  could  tell  him  anything  new  on  the 
subject.  He  could  not  leave  Washington, 
and  now  something  equally  impossible  and 
absurd  was  being  suggested  to  him.  It  in- 
volved endless  complications;  it  would  in- 
terfere with  his  work,  the  work  he  was 
doing  for  the  sake  of  Ralph  and  the  coun- 
try. Why  did  Major  Mixter  discuss  such 
nonsense? 

Mixter  met  his  gaze  steadily,  indeed 
somewhat  sternly. 

[185] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

"  I  am  asking  you  to  think  of  your  wife 
for  a  moment,"  he  said  in  firm  tones. 
**  Isn't  it  strain  enough  for  her  to  have  her 
boy  overseas  v^ithout  your  breaking  down? 
Don't  you  want  to  see  your  wife?" 

Rosenthal  continued  to  stare  at  the  Ma- 
jor, and  suddenly  something  inside  of  him 
gave  a  snap  and  almost  caused  him  to  gasp 
for  breath.  The  hunted  look  in  his  eyes 
disappeared,  the  deep  lines  around  his 
mouth  were  smoothed  away,  the  towering 
well-like  wall  his  imagination  had  built 
around  him  tumbled  down,  and  for  the 
moment  he  saw  clearly. 

"Why,  of  course  I  do,"  said  Mr.  Rosen- 
thal. "There  is  nothing  in  the  world  I 
want  to  do  so  much." 

"Then  you'll  come?"  asked  the  Major. 

Rosenthal  nodded. 

"Come  soon,"  went  on  Mixter.  "My 
wife  will  write  to  Mrs.  Rosenthal  today, 
and  if  she  can  start  at  once  we  will  expect 
you  Thursday." 

"  You  're  awfully  kind,"  said  Mr.  Rosen- 
thal. 

"Well,  you  be  kind  too,"  said  Mixter, 
"  and  promise  me  one  thing.  Telegraph 
your  wife  today,  and  then  don't  think 
[i86] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

any  more  about  it  until  it  is  time  for 
you  to  meet  her  at  the  station.  Is  that 
agreed?" 

Rosenthal  nodded.  His  heart  was  too 
full  for  utterance.  Miracles  were  in  the 
air;  the  impossible  was  about  to  happen. 
He  was  going  to  see  Rebecca. 

Mixter  stopped  at  Stockdale's  office  on 
the  way  out. 

^'  Look  here,  Bob,"  he  remarked.  "  I  Ve 
just  been  in  talking  to  Rosenthal.  He  and 
his  wife  are  coming  to  visit  us.  He 's  sicker 
than  you  thought.  You'd  better  keep  an 
eye  on  him.  Take  him  out  somewhere  for 
the  next  evening  or  two.  Don't  let  him 
work  at  night.    You'll  do  it,  won't  you? " 

^'  Rather!"  exclaimed  Stockdale.  I  have 
been  trying  to  make  him  go  away.  I  can't 
persuade  him.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  have 
been  begging  him  to  dine  with  me  on  and 
oflf  for  the  last  two  weeks;  but  he  won't 
come." 

'^He  will  now,"  said  Mixter.  "You  try 
it." 

He  paused  for  a  moment  and  went  on, 
^'It's  all  nonsense,  you  know.  Bob,  people 
thinking  that  no  one  but  the  men  in  the 
trenches  need  any  attention.    I  don't  know 

[187] 


AT   A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

who  started  such  a  silly  idea,  but  it's  all 
rot  anyway.  You  don't  want  to  let  people 
die  all  around  you,  just  because  they  are  n't 
in  the  trenches.  Another  thing,  you  don't 
want  to  sit  and  bite  your  thumb  wondering 
whether  you  know  people  well  enough  to 
do  anything  for  them  or  not.  Do  you  sup- 
pose a  nurse  in  a  hospital  in  France  stops 
to  consider  her  degree  of  acquaintanceship 
with  a  wounded  soldier  before  she  decides 
whether  she  can  take  care  of  him  or  not? 
Honestly,  the  way  some  people  reason 
makes  me  tired.  I  tell  you  it's  time  to 
wake  up  a  bit  and  say  what  you  really  think, 
not  follow  whatever  the  first  person  says, 
like  a  lot  of  sheep.  I  believe  in  describing 
things  as  they  are.  Call  a  spade  a  spade,  is 
what  I  say." 

Stockdale  gazed  at  his  friend  steadfastly 
during  this  outburst.  ^^ You've  done  the 
best  thing  you  could  for  Rosenthal,"  he 
said.  ^^He  won't  leave  Washington,  but 
this  is  the  next  thing  to  it.  You  are  a  good 
fellow,  Jack." 

"Pshaw!"  exclaimed   Mixter,   "there's 
nothing  good  about  it.    Besides,"  he  added, 
"I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it;  it's  Molly. 
Good-bye,  old  top !    See  you  later." 
[i88] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 


III 

On  the  day  on  which  his  wife  was  to 
arrive  Rosenthal  left  his  office  a  full  hour 
earlier  than  was  necessary  to  cover  the  dis- 
tance to  the  Union  Station,  where  the  train 
bearing  Rebecca  would  arrive  at  four  in  the 
afternoon.  He  stepped  over  to  the  little 
park  lying  between  the  various  buildings  of 
the  Smithsonian  Institute,  very  near  the 
domicile  of  the  Camp  Service  Division 
O.  Q.  M.  G.,  and  sat  down  on  one  of  the 
benches.  In  an  hour,  in  a  few  moments 
really,  Rebecca  would  be  with  him!  He 
was  going  to  see  her  here  where  his  work 
was,  —  and  for  two  whole  weeks.  It 
seemed  as  though  a  lifetime  of  happiness 
lay  before  him.  He  decided  he  would  ac- 
tually neglect  the  office  a  little  in  order 
that  he  might  spend  more  time  with  Re- 
becca, and  show  her  the  sights  of  Washing- 
ton. They  had  been  here  on  their  honey- 
moon twenty- five  years  ago.  Rebecca  would 
think  things  had  changed  some !  Still  there 
was  a  lot  which  was  just  as  it  had  been:  the 
Capitol,  the  White  House,  the  monument. 
They  would  see  it  all  again  together.    And 

[189] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

the  Smithsonian  Institute.  He  raised  his 
eyes  and  stared  at  the  old  red  brick  build- 
ing before  him.  How  Rebecca  had  rev- 
elled in  the  gowns  of  the  Presidents'  wives 
displayed  within  those  walls !  To  Rebecca, 
being  in  Washington  would  be  a  sightseeing 
holiday,  and  here  was  he  come  to  regard 
the  Smithsonian  Institute  merely  as  a  land- 
mark near  his  place  of  business.  Rosenthal 
began  to  feel  quite  like  Marco  Polo,  or 
some  other  seasoned  traveller.  Rebecca 
would  be  surprised  at  the  offhand  way  her 
husband  treated  famous  places.  Rosenthal 
chuckled  aloud.  He  did  n't  know  when  he 
had  been  so  happy;  never,  it  seemed.  And 
only  three  days  ago  when  he  got  up  in  the 
morning,  and  all  the  way  walking  to  the 
oiBce,  the  sky  had  looked  black,  not  fig- 
uratively but  actually  black,  although 
the  sun  had  been  shining  brightly  at  the 
time.  Certainly  he  had  been  getting  in 
a  bad  way,  but  Major  Mixter  had  some- 
how made  him  see  that  even  for  the  sake 
of  his  work  he  mustn't  go  on  as  he  had 
been  doing.  It  frightened  him  now  to  re- 
member what  his  state  of  mind  had  been. 
It  was  too  queer;  he  had  been  living  for 
months  in  a  nightmare.  How  had  it  hap- 
[190] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

pened?  he  wondered.  He  felt  tired  now, 
worn  out  really;  but  things  had  taken  on  a 
normal  aspect;  he  was  not  oppressed  con- 
tinually by  a  sense  of  unreasoning  fear,  and 
that  was  all  that  mattered.  As  long  as 
that  didn't  come  back  he  was  quite  con- 
tent to  feel  tired  and  exhausted.  He  gave 
a  sigh  of  happy  relief,  and  started  to  walk 
down  to  Pennsylvania  Avenue  on  his  way 
to  the  station. 

A  very  happy  couple  arrived  at  the  Mix- 
ter  house  on  New  Hampshire  Avenue  late 
that  afternoon.  Mrs.  Rosenthal  proved  to 
be  a  really  handsome  woman,  with  jet  black 
hair,  bright  black  eyes,  and  entire  refine- 
ment of  manner.  Before  dinner  she  and 
Mrs.  Mixter  had  a  confidential  talk. 

^^  I  could  n't  have  felt  we  ought  to  ac- 
cept your  very  kind  invitation,"  she  said, 
"if  you  had  not  told  us  what  you  did  in 
your  letter  about  Julius.  I  blame  myself 
so  much.  I  had  no  idea  he  had  been  so 
miserable.  His  letters  were  always  cheer- 
ful. Oh,  dear;  it  has  been  so  hard  to  know 
what  it  was  right  to  do  lately.  I  am  afraid 
I  haven't  done  all  a  wife  should,  and  Julius 
has  always  been  a  perfect  husband  to  me." 
Tears  came  into  the  little  woman's  eyes. 

[191] 


I 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

'^  It  has  not  been  easy  for  any  of  us  to 
know  what  we  really  ought  to  do,"  replied 
Mrs.  Mixter.  ^^  We  can  only  move  step  by 
step  as  things  come  before  us,  hoping  that 
all  will  come  out  right  in  the  end." 

^^  Julius  looks  so  awfully,"  sobbed  his 
wife. 

''My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Mixter,  ''he  will 
look  like  a  different  man  in  a  day  or  two 
now.  We  must  all  make  him  have  a  good 
time  and  really  enjoy  himself.  That  is  the 
only  cure  for  his  sort  of  illness." 

"I  am  sure  I  will  try,"  said  Mrs.  Rosen- 
thal, still  sobbing.  "  I  don't  feel  as  though 
I  could  leave  him  for  a  minute." 

"I  was  going  to  suggest,"  went  on  her 
hostess,  "  that  you  take  the  car  every  day  at 
noon  and  go  down  and  take  Mr.  Rosenthal 
out  to  lunch.  That  will  make  him  very 
happy.  In  the  evenings  we  can  stay  here 
and  talk  quietly,  or  perhaps  go  to  the  theatre 
occasionally;  and  we  might  motor  down 
to  Mount  Vernon  on  Sunday." 

"You  are  so  good,"  said  Mrs.  Rosenthal. 
"  Why  are  you  so  good  to  us?  " 

"  Because  your  husband  is  a  brave  sol- 
dier,"   answered    Mary    Mixter,    smiling, 
"  and  everybody  loves  a  soldier  today." 
[192] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

^^  I  will  tell  Julius  that,"  said  his  wife. 
^^  He  is  afraid  he  has  made  a  failure  of  his 
work,  and  will  be  so  glad  to  know  people 
think  he  hasn't." 

The  days  passed  happily,  and  therefore 
very  quickly.  The  Rosenthals  went  sight- 
seeing all  over  Washington,  as  though  it 
were  their  honeymoon  days  again.  At  the 
home  dinners  Lieut.  Eccles  proved  to  be 
the  best  possible  tonic.  His  somewhat 
bizarre  style  of  conversation,  while  it  mys- 
tified Mrs.  Rosenthal,  caused  her  husband 
to  laugh  as  he  had  never  expected  to  laugh 
again. 

One  afternoon  they  all  motored  across 
the  river  to  Arlington.  It  was  at  the  close 
of  a  perfect  day,  and  as  they  stood  in  front 
of  the  dignified  old  Lee  Mansion  and  looked 
across  the  Potomac  to  Washington  the  tran- 
quil, lovely  scene  brought  peace  and  solace 
to  the  hearts  of  each.  Over  Potomac  Park 
hovered  two  aeroplanes.  As  they  looked, 
one  of  them  turned  nose  downward  and 
dropped  like  a  falling  leaf  to  within  a  hun-  Si 
dred  feet  of  the  ground,  when  it  righted 
itself  and  soared  up  again.  The  dome  of 
the  Capitol,  the  monument  and  the  church 
spires  stood  out  against  the  sky  above  the 

[193] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

countless  buildings  of  Washington,  and  in 
the  early  twilight  the  city  and  the  river 
made  an  almost  magic  picture.  There 
stood  in  beauty  like  a  dream,  Freedom's 
citadel,  —  the  hope  of  a  world  well-nigh 
rent  asunder.  On  the  way  back  to  the  car 
Julius  Rosenthal  and  his  wife  walked  a 
little  behind  the  others. 

**  These  are  soldiers'  graves,  mother,"  he 
said,  ^^  all  soldiers'  graves.  I  used  to  think 
that  if  Ralph  should  be  killed  it  would  be 
nothing  but  waste  and  needless  tragedy. 
But  when  I  realize  what  I  feel  for  the  men 
who  lie  here,  I  don't  know;  I  almost  believe 
I  could  bear  it." 

"  I  know  Ralph  will  live,"  answered  his 
wife.  "  Somehow  I  have  never  feared 
greatly  for  him." 

^^I  am  beginning  to  feel  that  way,  too, 
mother,"  answered  Rosenthal.  "I  can 
think  of  him  now  as  being  well  and  happy." 

After  they  had  returned  to  the  house  on 
New  Hampshire  Avenue  Rosenthal  man- 
|l  aged  to  have  a  little  talk  alone  with  Mrs. 
Mixter. 

''  This  has  been  the  happiest  time  of  my 
life,"  he  said.  "  You  will  never  know  what 
you  have  done  for  Rebecca  and  me.  The 

[194] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

world  has  become  again  what  it  used  to  be 
many  years  ago.  For  the  last  twelve  months 
I  have  wondered  how  Rebecca  and  I  could 
ever  have  liked  Washington.  Now  the 
beauty  of  it  has  all  come  back.  I  feel  so 
happy,  so  well,  I  could  face  anything  now. 
Good-night." 

As  he  left  the  room  Mrs.  Mixter  could 
not  help  remarking  how  frail  and  deli- 
cate the  little  man  looked.  The  harassed 
expression  had  given  place  to  one  of 
perfect  contentment,  but  Mr.  Rosenthal 
looked  as  though  a  breath  might  blow  him 
away. 


IV 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast  Mrs. 
Rosenthal  appeared  alone. 

^^  Julius  is  not  at  all  well,"  she  said.  ^^  I 
think  I  would  like  to  have  a  doctor  see 
him."    Her  face  looked  almost  haggard. 

"  By  Jove,  that  is  too  bad,"  exclaimed 
Major  Mixter.  ''  I  will  call  Dr.  Owen  at 
once  on  the  telephone.  He  is  the  best 
in  Washington.  What  seems  to  be  the 
matter?" 

"He  coughs  a  great  deal  and  his  head 

[195] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

aches,  and  I  think  he  has  a  fever,"  answered 
Mrs.  Rosenthal. 

Major  Mixter  glanced  quickly  at  his 
wife.  ^^  Keep  him  in  bed  until  the  doctor 
comes.  It  is  always  well  to  be  careful,  al- 
though this  is  probably  nothing  but  a  cold." 
But  Major  Mixter  looked  worried. 

^'Molly,"  he  said  to  his  wife  when  they 
were  alone  together  after  breakfast,  ^'  I  '11 
bet  a  hat  it's  the  influenza.  The  town  is 
full  of  it.  Dr.  Owen  will  be  here  by  eleven. 
Talk  things  over  with  him,  and  he  will  tell 
you  what  precautions  to  take.  I  don't  want 
you  to  take  any  chances." 

"  Don't  worry.  Jack,"  answered  his  wife, 
*^I  am  not  a  bit  afraid  of  contagious  dis- 
eases. I  am  thankful  the  children  aren't 
here;  but  there  is  nothing  for  the  rest  of 
us  to  be  disturbed  about." 

^^You  are  a  trump,  Molly,'^  said  Jack 
Mixter  as  he  kissed  his  wife  good-bye,  "  but 
don't  take  unnecessary  risks." 

Dr.  Owen  stopped  to  speak  with  Mrs. 
Mixter  on  his  way  out. 

*^Yes,  it  is  the  influenza,"  he  answered, 
as  he  drew  on  his  gloves,  "  and  I  am  sorry 
to  say  a  bad  case.  The  patient  appears  to 
have  no  resistance.    His  reserve  force  seems 

[196] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

to  be  completely  exhausted  and  he  is  in  a 
frightfully  run-down  physical  condition. 
His  system  was  ready  for  any  sort  of  dis- 
ease. If  it  hadn't  been  the  influenza  it 
would  probably  have  been  something  else. 
I  shall  come  in  again  this  evening." 

Pneumonia  did  not  delay  even  the  cus- 
tomary three  days  but  set  in  almost  at  once. 
On  the  fourth  day  after  that  on  which 
Rosenthal  had  been  taken  ill  Mrs.  Mixter 
had  another  talk  with  the  doctor.  He 
looked  very  grave. 

^'  Do  what  you  can  to  help  his  wife  over 
a  bad  time,"  he  said.  "  I  have  told  her  that 
it  would  be  cruel  for  me  to  pretend  that 
there  was  any  hope." 

That  night  at  about  ten  o'clock  Julius 
Rosenthal  sent  down  word  that  he  would 
like  to  speak  to  Major  Mixter  a  moment. 

^*  Go,  Jack,"  said  his  wife.  "  Tell  him  we 
are  thinking  of  him." 

Julius  Rosenthal  lay  tossing  on  a  bed  of 
fever.  His  pale  blue  eyes  were  unnaturally 
bright,  his  hands  plucked  constantly  at 
the  coverlet,  his  cheeks  were  sunken,  and  a 
racking  cough  shook  his  frame  almost 
continually. 

^^  Good  of  you  to  come  up.   Major.     I 

[197] 


AT   A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

can't  thank  you  for  all  you  have  done.  I  Ve 
been  so  happy.  I  am  so  happy  now.  I 
know  I'm  a  desperately  sick  man.  I  am 
not  going  to  get  well.  If  it  was  n't  for  Re- 
becca I  would  be  glad.  I  see  now  what  a 
wonderful  opportunity  I  've  had  here  in 
Washington.  Just  think  of  it,  I  was  asked 
to  come  here  and  work  for  the  Army,  for  the 
Country,  here  where  all  the  best  and  big- 
gest men  in  America  have  come.  What  a 
chance  for  Julius  Rosenthal,  junk  dealer! 
I  hope  I  've  made  good  at  it.  God  knows 
I  've  tried.  To  be  called  and  to  have  failed 
would  be  more  than  I  could  bear.  I  've 
hated  it,  and  I  've  suffered,  but  I  've  stuck  to 
my  work.  And  it  was  worth  doing.  Every 
little  helps.  I've  had  a  part  in  the  great 
crusade.  It  all  looks  differently  to  me  now. 
I  don't  believe  I  could  ever  go  back  to  my 
own  business,  even  if  I  lived.  It  was  too 
small  a  life.  I  've  suffered,  but  I  've  lived 
in  the  midst  of  great  events ;  the  greatest  the 
world  has  ever  seen.  I  've  learned  to  know 
what  a  man's  country  means  to  him.  No, 
I  couldn't  go  back.  And  somehow  I  feel 
as  though  Ralph  was  all  right.  I  can't  ex- 
plain it,  but  it's  so." 

A  great  fit  of  coughing  shook  the  little 

[198] 


DISTINGUISHED   SERVICE 

man  from  head  to  foot.  Exhausted,  he 
closed  his  eyes  and  lay  silent  in  a  state  al- 
most of  coma. 

More  than  three  thousand  miles  away, 
Sergeant  Rosenthal  stepped  briskly  out  in 
front  of  his  company,  saluted  and  stood  at 
attention.  A  smooth-faced,  white-haired 
officer  wearing  two  stars  on  his  shoulders 
returned  the  salute  and  then  read  solemnly 
from  a  paper  in  his  hand: 

"  Rosenthal,  Ralph,  Sergeant  Com- 
pany M  6ioth  Infantry.  (A.S.  No. 
4,383,209).  For  extraordinary  heroism 
in  action  near  Longuyon,  France.  Taking 
command  of  his  platoon  after  its  com- 
mander had  been  seriously  wounded,  Ser- 
geant Rosenthal  led  it  with  remarkable 
daring  through  heavy  machine-gun  fire  and 
captured  three  machine-gun  nests.  Return- 
ing to  his  own  lines  Sergeant  Rosenthal  sent 
the  remaining  members  of  the  platoon 
ahead  and  himself  carried  in  on  his  shoul- 
ders under  heavy  fire  a  wounded  American 
officer.  Home  address,  Mrs.  J.  Rosenthal, 
mother,  28  Shartle  St.,  Cleveland,  Ohio." 

The  general  stepped  forward  and  pinned 
a  decoration  on  Ralph  Rosenthal's  breast. 

"  I  congratulate  you,  Sergeant,"  he  said, 
and  held  out  his  hand. 

[199] 


AT  A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

Sergeant  Rosenthal  shook  hands,  saluted 
and  stepped  back  to  his  place  in  the  ranks 
with  glowing  eyes,  while  the  cheers  of  his 
company  rent  the  air. 

Julius  Rosenthal  turned  uneasily  in  bed, 
and  opening  his  eyes  gazed  fixedly  at  Major 
Mixter. 

^^Somehow  I  am  sure  Ralph  is  all  right," 
he  said  earnestly,  ^^that  he  is  well  and  doing 
his  duty.  It  makes  me  proud  and  happy  to 
be  part  of  the  army  in  which  my  boy  is  a 
gallant  soldier.  Good-night,  Major,  and 
thank  you  again." 

Major  Mixter's  eyes  were  dim. 

"  Good-night,  old  man,"  he  said,  patting 
for  a  moment  the  hand  on  the  coverlet. 
^^  I  '11  send  your  wife  in  to  you.  Good- 
night.   I  '11  see  you  in  the  morning." 

Rosenthal  nodded.  ^^  Perhaps  so,"  he 
said  with  a  faint  smile.  But  before  dawn 
Julius  Rosenthal  had  laid  down  his  life  for 
his  country. 


[200] 


THE  PEACE  BELLS 


THE  PEACE  BELLS 


VICTORY  was  in  the  air.  The 
hurrying  crowds  of  officers,  gov- 
ernment clerks  and  civilian  war 
workers  that  thronged  the  streets  of  Wash- 
ington from  eight-thirty  to  nine  A.M.  every 
day,  wore  a  holiday  appearance  on  the 
morning  of  November  6,  191 8.  The  city 
had  been  cheering  up  for  the  last  two 
weeks.  Drawn  faces,  indicative  of  nerves 
almost  cracking  under  routine  and  strain, 
were  replaced  by  broadly  smiling  counte- 
nances that  looked  out  on  a  new  world. 
The  grass  in  Lafayette  Square  took  on  a 
brighter  hue  of  green,  the  calm  dignity  of 
the  White  House  seemed  once  again  to  have 
come  into  its  own,  while  the  dome  of  the 
Capitol  beamed  over  all  Washington  in  the 
bright  sunlight.  The  dove  of  peace  had  not 
yet  alighted  on  the  Washington  monument, 
but  as  Mixter,  adopting  Mr.  Bright's  fa- 

[203] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

mous  allusion,  had  remarked  the  evening 
before,  if  you  listened  you  could  almost 
hear  the  beating  of  its  wings. 

Down  in  the  office  of  the  Camp  Service 
Division  O.  Q.  M.  G.  at  the  corner  of  Tenth 
and  N  Streets,  General  Gish,  military  mar- 
tinet by  profession,  jumping  over  the  traces 
of  a  habit  of  twenty  years'  standing,  re- 
sponded to  Stockdale's  formal  greeting  of 
*^  Good-morning,  Sir,"  with  the  remark, 
"Hullo,  old  man!"  The  section  heads  of 
the  Division  postponed  attention  to  business 
long  enough  to  exchange  cheerful  bits  of 
gossip  and  rumored  items  of  good  news  with 
one  another.  Stenographers  taking  dictation 
were  inclined  to  be  conversational,  and  sec- 
ond lieutenants  forgot  their  uniforms  and 
took  on  the  manners  and  bearing  of  college 
boys  after  a  football  game.  Stockdale,  who 
was  leaving  at  noon  for  a  five  days'  vacation 
at  the  country  house  of  his  friend  Tom 
Montgomery  down  on  Chesapeake  Bay, 
five  miles  from  Annapolis,  decided  that  the 
first  and  most  pressing  business  of  the  day 
was  to  indite  a  note  to  Miss  Lovering,  who 
was  to  be  one  of  the  house-party.  The  two 
had  met  with  increasing  frequency  since 
her  return  to  Washington  in  late  Septem- 
[204] 


THE   PEACE   BELLS 

ber,  and  there  had  grown  up  between  them 
something  like  a  genuine  intimacy.  Her 
hair  the  color  of  daffodils  and  her  air  of 
high  breeding,  charming  though  they  were, 
had  come  to  mean  less  to  Stockdale  than 
her  frank  and  downright  willingness  to  be 
her  real  self,  and  a  very  wholesome  and  lov- 
able self  it  was,  even  in  casual  social  inter- 
course. The  war  had  affected  many  persons 
of  both  sexes  in  just  that  way.  Stock- 
dale's  epistolary  style  had  become  some- 
what cramped  and  stereotyped  by  reason  of 
the  number  of  letters  he  had  written  during 
the  last  ten  months,  according  to  the  ap- 
proved formula  for  military  corespondence, 
but  he  did  his  best. 

^^Do  you  want  an  excuse  for  a  little  out- 
door exercise?"  he  asked  first  lieutenant 
William  Price,  who  was  one  of  the  assist- 
ants in  the  Legal  Section.  ^^  If  so,  take  this 
note  to  that  address  on  K  Street,  will  you?  " 

First  Lieutenant  William  Price  accepted 
the  letter  eagerly,  put  on  his  cap,  stood 
at  attention  and  remarked  gravely,  "  K 
Street?  Very  well.  I  will  be  back  at 
two  o'clock." 

'^  Don't  hurry,"  called  out  Stockdale  as 
the  lieutenant  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

[205] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

II 

As  the  limousine  which  was  to  convey 
her  to  Camp  Shiloh  and  thence  to  the 
Montgomerys'  house  crossed  the  bridge 
over  the  Potomac  River  and  struck  out  into 
the  open  country,  Miss  Lovering  leaned 
back  and  opened  the  letter  which  had  been 
handed  to  her  just  as  she  left  her  house  in 
Washington.  It  was  written  on  very  offi- 
cial looking  paper,  and  ran  as  follows : 

"  From:     Her  humblest  admirer. 
To:         The  beautiful  Miss  Lovering. 
Subject:  Proposition    regarding    transporta- 
tion. 

1.  It  having  come  to  the  attention  of  this 
office  that  you  are  to  play  at  the  concert 
to  be  given  at  Base  Hospital  No.  34, 
Camp  Shiloh,  this  afternoon,  you  are 
informed  that  the  undersigned  is  an 
intimate  friend  of  Col.  Dawson,  com- 
manding the  aforesaid  Base  Hospital, 
and  that  he  intends  to  be  present  at  the 
concert. 

2.  It  appearing  from  an  oral  report  of 
Thomas  Montgomery,  Esq.,  of  Carter 
Hall,  near  Annapolis,  that  you  are  to 
motor  to  his  residence  from  Camp  Shiloh 
after  the  concert  referred  to  in  the  pre- 
ceding   paragraph,    the    writer   humbly 

[206] 


THE   PEACE   BELLS 

beseeches  that  you  will  take  him  along 
with  you  on  this  stage  of  your  journey. 
Otherwise  he  will  be  compelled  to  retrace 
his  steps  to  Annapolis  Junction  and 
thence  proceed  by  trolley,  which,  con- 
sidering the  way  those  cars  bang  around, 
is  more  than  should  be  asked  of  any  man. 

3.  This  proposition  has  received  the  ap- 
proval of  all  the  officials  of  the  Quarter- 
master's Department  in  any  way  con- 
cerned therewith,  and  the  undersigned 
takes  the  liberty  of  congratulating  you 
on  this  opportunity  to  serve  your  country. 

4.  Isn't  the  war  news  wonderful? 

Respectfully, 

Robert  Stockdale. 
P.S.     I  hope  you  are  going  to  sing  as  well 
as  play." 

As  has  been  said,  the  day  was  bright 
and  cheerful,  and  Miss  Lovering  smiled 
happily. 

Stockdale  arrived  at  the  Base  Hospital 
too  late  for  the  beginning  of  the  concert. 
He  stopped  for  only  a  moment's  chat  vs^ith 
Col.  Dawson  in  his  office,  and  then,  guided 
by  an  orderly,  went  down  the  almost  inter- 
minably long  passageways  of  the  hospital 
to  the  recreation  room  on  the  surgical  side. 
At  most  of  the  Cantonments  in  the  country 
the  Red  Cross  had  built  commodious  and 
[207] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

well-appointed  convalescent  houses  or  so- 
lariums.  At  Camp  Shiloh,  however,  owing 
to  a  misunderstanding  with  the  Command- 
ing General,  this  building  was  not  yet  com- 
pleted, and  Col.  Dawson  continued  to  use 
two  of  his  hospital  wards  as  rest  rooms  for 
men  on  the  road  to  recovery.  After  all, 
they  were  the  most  cheerful  and  attractive 
places  in  the  entire  camp,  and  had  been  the 
means  of  bringing  many  a  man  back  to  nor- 
mal health  in  record  time. 

Stockdale  found  the  music  room,  as  it 
was  called,  crowded  almost  to  overflowing 
with  more  than  two  hundred  men  in  khaki 
seated  in  chairs  arranged  in  orderly  rows 
and  occupying  the  entire  ward  except  a 
narrow  aisle  down  the  centre  and  a  small 
space  at  the  end  opposite  the  door,  which 
was  reserved  for  the  piano  and  the  per- 
formers. Stockdale  wedged  himself  in  be- 
hind the  last  row  of  chairs,  and  looked 
about  through  the  blue  haze  of  tobacco 
smoke  which  was  pouring  out  from  a  hun- 
dred mouths.  The  walls  of  the  room  were 
draped  with  the  flags  of  all  the  Allied  Na- 
tions, and  were  hung  with  a  great  variety 
of  bright  colored  pictures,  sporting  prints 
and  so  on,  as  well  as  handsome  steel  engrav- 
[  208  ] 


THE    PEACE   BELLS 

ings  of  Washington,  Lincoln,  Grant  and 
Wilson.  A  dozen  or  more  of  the  men  pres- 
ent wore  dressing  gowns,  and  were  propped 
up  in  leather-backed  Morris  chairs,  while 
as  many  more  wheel  chairs  testified  to  the 
eagerness  of  convalescents  to  attend  the  Red 
Cross  concert  if  the  thing  were  possible. 
The  great  majority  of  the  men,  so  far  as 
Stockdale  could  observe,  looked  hearty  and 
cheerful.  At  any  rate,  there  was  a  distinct 
atmosphere  of  exhilaration  over  the  gather- 
ing, although  the  silent  attention  during  the 
singing  and  playing  left  nothing  to  be  de- 
sired. Katherine  Lovering  stood  a  little 
to  the  left  of  the  piano,  her  violin  under  her 
chin,  her  head  a  little  on  one  side,  her  eyes 
dreamy  with  the  music,  playing  the  haunt- 
ing melody  of  the  Barcarolle  from  the  Tales 
of  Hoffman.  As  she  finished  there  was  a 
moment's  silence,  and  then  came  a  burst  of 
hand-clapping  and  a  roar  of  applause  that 
threatened  to  raise  the  roof  of  the  recrea- 
tion room.  ''More!  More!  More!" 
shouted  the  men  in  khaki;  and  Miss  Lover- 
ing, her  face  glowing  with  delight,  played 
the  Barcarolle  again.  There  was  no  mis- 
taking the  joy  she  felt  in  her  employment. 
Many  times  had  she  done  the  same  thing 

[  209  ] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

before;  and  nearer  the  front  than  any  of 
her  present  auditors  were  now  likely  to  get. 
As  she  played  she  almost  felt  within  herself 
the  glow  and  exultation  of  those  other  men 
in  France,  and  in  her  heart  there  welled  up 
a  deep  and  joyful  feeling  of  thankfulness 
to  God  that  the  slaughter  and  suffering 
were  nearly  over. 

Apparently  it  was  the  really  good  music 
which  the  men  enjoyed  most.  The  attempt 
of  Mr.  Dalton,  who  sang,  to  bring  himself 
down  to  what  he  erroneously  supposed 
was  the  level  of  his  audience,  was  hardly 
successful.  The  pseudo-comic  ditty  in 
which,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he 
declared, 

**  I  sing  a  little  tenor,  — 
I  sing  a  little  barytone,  — 
Also  sing  a  little  base," 

did  not  meet  with  much  enthusiasm.  Mr. 
Dalton  more  than  made  up  for  this,  how- 
ever, by  his  really  magnificent  singing  of 
^^The  Kavanaugh."  As  he  came  to  the 
last  verse,  a  voice  from  the  audience  joined 
in  with  his,  a  tenor  voice  so  high  and 
true  and  sweet  that  Stockdale  felt  himself 
gripped  by  emotion  and,  after  the  song  was 
over,  joined  the  men  in  shouting,  '^  Smithy  I " 
[210] 


THE    PEACE    BELLS 

''  Smithy  1 "  ''  Make  him  sing  Joan  of  Arc ! " 
And  when  Smithy,  routed  out  by  the  Red 
Cross  Field  Director,  who  acted  as  Master 
of  Ceremonies,  hobbled  forward  on  his 
crutches  and  sang  ^^Joan  of  Arc"  with  a 
voice  which  might  have  belonged  to  one 
of  the  heavenly  choir,  Stockdale's  demand 
for  an  encore  represented  a  genuine  en- 
thusiasm. Before  he  had  heard  half  he 
wanted  to  hear  it  was  time  for  the  concert 
to  end. 

Miss  Lovering  came  forward,  her  violin 
under  her  chin  and  her  head  a  little  on  one 
side.  She  looked  appealingly  at  the  men 
before  her.  "  I  am  going  to  play,  and  to 
try  and  sing,  'The  Long,  Long  Trail.' 
Won't  you  sing  it  with  me?" 

There  was  no  answer,  except  adoring 
glances  from  more  than  two  hundred  men 
in  khaki,  but  when  the  verse  was  ended  a 
mighty  chorus  joyfully  proclaimed, 

"  There  's  a  long,  long  trail  a-winding, 
Into  the  land  of  my  dreams." 

"Three  cheers  for  the  concert,"  shouted 
Sergeant  Cubbins,  as  the  last  note  died 
away.  Then,  ''Three  cheers  for  the 
violin!" 

[211] 


AT  A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

^*  Shall  we  hurry  along?*"  asked  Miss 
Lovering  as  Stockdale,  the  room  having 
nearly  emptied,  made  his  way  to  her  side. 
''  The  request  for  transportation  is  ap- 
proved and  allowed,"  she  added. 

^'  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss,"  said  a  red- 
faced  hospital  orderly,  his  tall  khaki-clad 
form  towering  over  Miss  Lovering,  ^^but 
I  wonder  if  you  'd  come  and  play  just  one 
piece  in  my  ward?  I  Ve  got  four  men  there 
who  were  smashed  up  awful  bad  in  a  motor 
truck  accident,  and  I  know  it  would  do 
them  a  lot  of  good." 

"It  is  allowed,  isn't  it?"  asked  Miss  Lov- 
ering, appealing  to  the  Red  Cross  man. 

"  We  '11  chance  it  anyhow,"  he  answered, 
"  if  you  have  the  time." 

There  were  at  least  a  dozen  men  lying  in 
bed  in  Surgical  Ward  19;  four  of  the  faces 
looked  frail  and  wan,  with  pain  and  suffer- 
ing. Standing  just  inside  the  door.  Miss 
Lovering  played  as  she  had  never  played 
before.  There  was  joy  in  her  heart,  and 
sympathy  and  love.  She  played  again  and 
again.  Finally  she  lowered  her  violin.  "  I 
must  go  now,"  she  said.  "  Good-night. 
There's  a  better  time  coming  soon.  The 
war  is  ending." 

[212] 


THE   PEACE   BELLS  \ 

"Good-night;   thank  you;   good-night,"  i 

came  back  a  grateful  chorus. 

Carrying  her  violin,  Stockdale  escorted 
Miss  Lovering  back  towards  the  Adminis-  ■ 

trative   Offices.     "Did  you  like  it?"   she  l 

asked,  glancing  at  him  as  they  started  down  t 

the   long,   connecting,   horizontal   passage-  i 

way,  deserted  at  this  time  of  night.  ; 

"  Almost  as  much  as  the  men  it  was  given  I 

for,"  answered  Stockdale.  1 

"Do  you  think  they  liked  it?"  pursued  5 

Miss  Lovering.  { 

"  I  thought  even  the  cripples  would  leap  I 

from  their  seats  and  fly  to  you  when  you  ; 

asked  them  to  join  you  in  singing  '  The  ' 

Long,  Long  Trail.'  "  He  paused  a  moment 
and  looked  at  his  companion.  "And  I 
shouldn't  have  blamed  them  if  they  had," 
he  added.  ' 

For  what  followed,  one  person  was  en- 
tirely responsible.  Coming  a  trifle  nearer 
to  Stockdale,  Miss  Lovering  put  her  head  \ 

a  little  on  one  side,  smiled  provokingly,  and  ^ 

said,  "Won't  you  sing  it  with  me?"  | 

Without  hesitation   Stockdale  bent  for-  j 

ward  quickly  and  kissed  her.    Miss  Lover-  j 

ing's  cheeks  flamed  scarlet,  but  she  uttered  j 

not  a  word  as  the  two  walked  on,  and  meet-  j 

[213]  ) 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

ing  CoL  Dawson  in  the  entrance  hall  of  the 
Administration  Building,  paused  to  say 
good-night. 

"Well,  Bob,  how  did  you  enjoy  the  con- 
cert?" asked  the  Colonel,  after  he  had 
thanked  Miss  Lovering  for  her  kindness  in 
coming  out  to  his  hospital  from  Washington. 

"  I  never  enjoyed  one  better,  old  man," 
Stockdale  answered.  "You've  got  a  won- 
derful plant  here,"  he  added  irrelevantly, 
"  and  a  good  man  at  the  head  of  it." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  A  kind 
word  now  and  then  is  n't  amiss.  I  thought 
perhaps  you  might  stay  and  dine  with  me, 
and  we  could  talk  things  over  a  bit." 

"  Sorry,"  said  Stockdale,  "  I  'm  on  my 
way  to  Tom  Montgomery's.  Miss  Lover- 
ing has  said  she  will  be  kind  enough  to  take 
me  down.  Good-night,  Ben.  It  looks  as 
though  your  troubles  would  soon  be  over 
now." 

"It  looks  promising,  certainly,"  agreed 
the  Colonel.    "  Good-night." 

The  limousine  sped  through  the  streets 
of  the  cantonment,  out  on  to  the  highroad 
for  Annapolis.  They  had  covered  a  good 
many  miles  in  complete  silence  before  Miss 
Lovering  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  You  kissed 
me."  [214] 


THE   PEACE   BELLS 

Not  being  able  to  oppose  any  denial  to 
this  bald  statement  of  fact,  Stockdale  said 
nothing. 

^^  Why  did  you  do  it?"  asked  Miss  Lov- 
ering. 

To  Stockdale,  brutal  frankness  seemed 
the  only  method  of  dealing  with  this  ex- 
perienced young  woman  of  the  great  world. 

^^Because  you  looked  as  though  you  ex- 
pected me  to,"  he  said. 

Miss  Lovering  turned  her  head  and  gazed 
out  of  the  window. 

''I  did,"  she  said  softly.  "In  fact,  I 
made  you." 

Stockdale  stared  ahead  of  him  with  set 
expression. 

"Did  it  mean  anything  to  you,  except  that 
you  were  in  high  spirits  because  the  war  is 
going  to  end?"  asked  Miss  Lovering,  as 
she  turned  her  head  back  from  the  window. 
Her  voice  sounded  the  least  bit  strange,  and 
Stockdale's  heart  gave  a  great  jump.  The 
love  that  he  had  cherished  for  her  for  many 
weeks,  but  had  not  dared  to  speak,  rushed 
to  his  lips  and  clamored  for  utterance.  He 
held  it  back  manfully,  however,  and  merely 
repeated  her  own  words. 

"  Did  it  mean  anything  to  you?  "  he  asked. 

[215] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

He  looked  down  at  her,  and  found  that  the 
fashionable  Miss  Lovering  seemed  sud- 
denly to  have  become  a  little  girl,  a  very- 
little  girl  indeed.  The  blue  eyes,  as  they 
looked  in  his,  were  moist  with  unshed  tears. 
There  was  the  look  in  them  of  a  frightened 
child  that  craves  protection.  She  held  her 
lips  tightly  closed,  as  though  to  keep  back 
sobs  which  she  feared  might  come.  She 
nodded  her  head. 

^^  You  can't  mean  that  you  care  for  me?  " 
asked  Stockdale,  '^  that  you  love  me  as  I 
do  you?" 

Once  again  Miss  Lovering  nodded, 
though  her  lips  were  closed  tighter  than 
ever. 

^^It  isn't  fair,"  said  Stockdale.  ^^  Per- 
haps there  are  men  who  might  deserve  it; 
but  I  —  " 

Miss  Lovering's  hand  rested  for  a  mo- 
ment on  Stockdale's  arm.  ''  Don't  say 
that,"  she  said,  still  softly,  ^^  I  am  so  happy." 

Ill 

The  Montgomerys'  house  was  an  historic 
old  red  brick  mansion,  with  six  tall  white 
pillars  in  front  and  a  lawn  that  sloped  for 
[216] 


THE   PEACE   BELLS 

a  quarter  of  a  mile  straight  away  from  the 
house  to  a  bluff  overhanging  Chesapeake 
Bay.  It  stood  alone  on  a  point  of  land, 
bounded  on  either  side  by  a  bayou  or  creek 
running  back  from  the  bay  for  a  mile  or 
more.  Across  the  water  in  the  far  dis- 
tance could  be  seen  the  spires  and  roofs  of 
Annapolis  and  the  dome  of  the  chapel  of 
the  Naval  Academy. 

On  Thursday,  the  seventh  of  November, 
the  day  after  the  arrival  of  Miss  Lovering 
and  Stockdale,  Tom  Montgomery  proposed 
that  they  should  motor  into  Annapolis  after 
lunch,  while  he  did  some  chores  and  made 
some  purchases.  That  was  the  way  in 
which  he  phrased  his  suggestion,  but  the 
truth  of  the  matter  was  he  was  anxious  to 
hear  the  latest  news.  The  Montgomerys 
had  a  son  in  the  Service,  on  a  destroyer  off 
the  south  coast  of  Ireland.  Tom  Mont- 
gomery professed  to  be  wholly  indifferent 
as  to  the  precise  moment  when  the  war 
should  end. 

'^ We've  got  them  on  the  run,"  he  said, 
"and  isn't  that  enough?  What  difference 
does  it  make  whether  they  sign  an  Armis- 
tice now  or  are  smashed  to  smithereens  next 
spring?" 

[217] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

He  was  a  fat,  jolly  looking  man  of  forty- 
six  or  seven,  a  classmate  at  Harvard  of 
Stockdale's,  although  slightly  older  than 
the  latter,  and  was  reputed  to  have  no  nerv- 
ous system.  Mrs.  Montgomery,  however, 
knew  better  than  that.  She  shook  her  head 
at  him  across  the  luncheon  table  when  he 
made  the  remark  quoted  above,  and  ob- 
served, ^'You  won't  hear  any  news  today, 
Tom." 

"Nonsense,"  responded  her  husband,  "I 
don't  want  any  news.  I  thought  Katherine 
and  Bob  might  enjoy  a  little  turn  in  the 
motor." 

In  the  quaint  old  town  of  Annapolis  the 
car  drew  up  to  the  curb  in  front  of  a 
shop  just  opposite  the  old  brick  Episcopal 
Church. 

"  Be  back  in  a  minute,"  said  Tom  Mont- 
gomery, getting  out  from  the  front  seat. 
"  Got  a  few  things  to  buy  in  here." 

The  fresh  country  air  had  made  Miss 
Lovering  and  Stockdale  drowsy,  and  Mrs. 
Montgomery,  the  most  considerate  and  tact- 
ful of  women,  did  not  compel  the  others 
to  talk  by  talking  herself.  All  three  sat 
quiet  in  the  sleepy  old  street.  The  bell  in 
the  tower  of  the  little  old-fashioned  church 
[218] 


THE   PEACE   BELLS 

began  to  ring.  Stockdale  looked  up  lazily 
and  saw  it  swinging  to  and  fro.  He  lowered 
his  gaze  and  continued  to  drowse.  The  bell 
kept  on  ringing.  Three  or  four  minutes 
went  by.  Suddenly  Mrs.  Montgomery 
sat  upright.  ^^  I  wonder  — "  she  said. 
Stockdale  looked  at  her  without  under- 
standing. 

^'There's  probably  a  fire  somewhere,"  he 
observed. 

Tom  Montgomery  came  out  of  the  shop 
and  climbed  into  the  front  seat,  where  he 
sat  looking  straight  before  him,  but  the 
others  had  noticed  that  his  ruddy  face  had 
gone  curiously  white. 

^^Tom,  what  is  that  bell  ringing  for?" 
asked  his  wife,  in  vibrant  tones.  There  was 
a  moment's  silence,  and  then  Montgomery 
answered,  ^^  It  is  ringing  because  of  the 
complete  surrender  of  Germany."  Mrs. 
Montgomery  fell  back  limply  on  the  cush- 
ions of  the  car.  ^'  Don't  speak  to  me,"  she 
said. 

^^  Thank  God,"  ejaculated  Stockdale. 

Miss  Lovering's  eyes  were  shining  like 
stars. 

As  they  sped  back  to  Carter  Hall  other 
bells  took  up  the  joyous  clamor,  whistles 

[219] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

blew,  and  the  sleepy  old  town  of  Annapolis 
became  for  the  moment  a  mere  volume  of 
sound. 

^^Having  it  actually  happen  is  so  differ- 
ent from  believing  that  it  was  gong  to  hap- 
pen," said  Miss  Lovering  in  low  tones  when 
they  were  all  seated  on  the  terrace  at  Carter 
Hall.  Tom  Montgomery  made  a  frank 
and  manly  confession. 

"Now  that  it  is  all  over,"  he  said,  ''I 
don't  mind  owning  up  that  I  did  n't  see 
how  I  was  going  to  get  through  those  three 
days  the  Germans  were  to  have  to  consider 
their  answer.  I  feel  as  though  I  could  for- 
give them  a  lot  for  being  so  prompt." 

Commander  Wells  from  the  Naval  Acad- 
emy was  dining  at  Carter  Hall  that  evening. 
"  Great  news,  old  man,"  exclaimed  Tom 
Montgomery  on  his  arrival.  "  I  can't  be- 
lieve even  yet  the  Armistice  is  actually 
signed." 

Commander  Wells  looked  almost  embar- 
rassed as  he  gazed  on  his  host's  jolly 
countenance. 

"  I  would  n't  if  I  were  you,"  he  observed. 

"Why  not?"  demanded  Montgomery, 
his  lower  jaw  falling  and  the  brightness 
dying  out  of  his  eyes. 

[220] 


THE   PEACE   BELLS 

^^Oh,  it's  coming  all  right;  don't  worry. 
It's  time  to  put  the  champagne  on  ice,  but 
I  would  n't  open  it  yet.  Lansing  has  come 
out  with  an  official  denial  that  the  Armis- 
tice has  been  signed,  or  that  the  German 
Commissioners  have  even  reached  the  Al- 
lied lines  as  yet." 

It  was  hard  work  getting  through  dinner 
that  night,  although  each  person  present 
deserved  a  medal  for  gallantry  for  the  efifort 
made  to  talk  of  ^^  other  things."  It  was  even 
harder  making  the  time  pass  on  Friday, 
Saturday  and  Sunday. 

On  Sunday  Stockdale  and  Montgomery 
went  off  to  play  a  foursome  of  golf  with 
two  naval  officers  on  the  Academy  links. 

''  By  Jove,"  said  the  latter  that  evening, 
*^  it  seemed  as  though  the  church  bells 
started  to  ring  every  time  I  had  a  difficult 
putt  to  make.  And  every  time  I  heard  them 
I  would  jump  with  excitement  and  miss 
my  putt.  After  I  'd  done  that  I  would  rec- 
ollect that  it  was  Sunday." 

Stockdale  woke  up  the  next  morning 
while  it  was  yet  dark.  He  rubbed  his  eyes, 
turned  on  the  electric  light  by  the  head  of 
his  bed,  and  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was 
quarter  to  five  o'clock.  Stockdale  shook 
[221] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

his  head  and  putting  out  the  light  lay  down 
again  and  tried  to  sleep.  Presently  he  sat 
up  once  more.  A  faint  though  constant 
sound,  apparently  coming  from  a  distance, 
seemed  to  enter  with  the  breeze  through  the 
open  window.  He  listened  intently.  It 
was  the  sound  of  bells,  —  of  bells  ringing 
in  Annapolis,  miles  away.  For  an  hour  he 
lay  quiet,  his  ears  strained  to  catch  the 
sound  and  waiting  for  it  to  stop.  The  bells 
kept  on  ringing.  Stockdale  dressed  and 
made  his  way  to  the  stairs.  Coming  up 
them,  in  his  dressing  gown,  was  Tom 
Montgomery. 

^*It  is  true  this  time?"  asked  Stockdale. 

^^  It  is  true  this  time,  old  man,"  answered 
his  host.  "  I  've  been  telephoning  since 
half-past  four.  I  Ve  got  it  from  Annapolis, 
from  Baltimore,  from  Washington.  It's 
official." 

"Then  your  boy  is  all  right,"  said  Stock- 
dale.  "No  more  submarines.  I'm  glad 
for  you,  Tom." 

"  I  'm  going  in  to  tell  my  wife  now,"  said 
Montgomery.  "  She 's  been  awake  all 
night.  I  promised  her  I  wouldn't  report 
anything  until  I  was  absolutely  certain;  I 
am  now,  thank  God." 

[222] 


THE   PEACE   BELLS 

IV 

Shortly  after  dinner  that  night  Stock- 
dale  remarked,  ^*  Katherine  and  I  are  going 
out  in  the  canoe  for  a  bit;  it  is  still  down 
by  the  little  pier,  is  n't  it?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  is,"  answered  Tom  Mont- 
gomery, ^^  but  do  you  know  what  time  of 
year  it  is?" 

Stockdale  did  not  answer  ^^It's  summer 
in  my  heart,"  as  was  his  inclination,  but  in- 
stead replied,  ^^We  are  only  going  for  a 
short  time,  and  Katherine  can  take  wraps. 
There's  a  moon." 

"  If  Katherine  goes  she  shall  wear  Tom's 
ulster,"  said  Mrs.  Montgomery  with  de- 
cision. 

"  Give  it  to  me,"  laughed  Miss  Lovering. 
^'  It  is  sure  to  fit." 

She  buttoned  the  ulster  to  the  chin,  and 
turned  up  the  collar.  It  touched  the 
ground,  and  Miss  Lovering  had  to  gather 
it  up  in  her  hands,  and  her  skirts  under- 
neath as  well,  in  order  to  walk  easily.  ^^  All 
ready,"  she  said. 

At  the  head  of  the  little  creek  running 
back  from  the  bay  Stockdale  made  Miss 
Lovering  comfortable  in  the  middle  of  the 

[  223  ] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

canoe  and  taking  up  the  paddle  pushed  off. 
The  moon  cast  a  bright  path  over  the  water, 
and  made  a  soft  light  by  which  things  were 
almost  as  visible  as  by  day. 

Stockdale  paddled  on  some  minutes  in 
silence.  ^^  Katherine,  are  you  sure  you  want 
me?"  he  said  at  length.  ^^You  are  a  girl, 
with  everything  before  you,  and  I  am  a 
middle-aged  man,  an  old  man  really.  Are 
you  sure  you  know  what  you  are  doing?  " 

The  little-girl  look  had  come  back  on 
Miss  Lovering's  face  again.  She  nodded, 
her  eyes  fixed  on  those  of  Stockdale. 
"  Please  don't  say  that  any  more,"  she 
pleaded.     ''  Promise." 

'^I  promise,"  said  Stockdale.  He  ran 
the  canoe  in  under  the  bank  so  that  it  rested 
on  bottom  underneath  the  overhanging 
bows  of  a  tall  willow  tree,  and  going  for- 
ward a  little  sat  at  Miss  Lovering's  feet. 
Over  the  water  the  light  breeze  brought 
the  faint  sound  of  bells  ringing  in  the  old 
city  of  Annapolis,  —  the  peace  bells. 

''  The  war  is  ended,"  said  Stockdale.  '^  It 
seems  like  a  dream." 

''  I  know,"  said  Miss  Lovering  softly. 

^^The  war  is  ended,"  repeated  Stockdale, 
^^and  I  am  alive,  well,  and  happy;  happier 
[  224  ] 


THE   PEACE   BELLS 

than  I  thought  people  could  be  in  this 
world.  And  thousands  of  men,  of  our  own 
men,  are  lying  dead  three  thousand  miles 
from  home." 

''  I  am  thinking  of  the  mothers,"  said  Miss 
Lovering,  ^^of  the  mothers  all  over  this 
country  who  are  feeling  tonight  a  joy  and 
peace  which  passeth  understanding." 

^^But  some  of  them  — "  said  Stockdale 
softly. 

^^  Some  of  them  have  lost  everything  that 
made  life  worth  while.  Oh,  I  wish  I  could 
help  and  comfort  them,"  cried  Miss  Lov- 
ering. "  I  pray  with  all  my  heart  that  God 
will." 

''  Our  men  died  for  these  mothers,  for  the 
children  of  the  country,  for  you;  and  that 
is  right.  But  they  died  also  for  me,  and 
that  somehow  seems  wrong."  A  cloud  came 
over  Stockdale's  face  and  rested  there. 

^^  I  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Miss  Lov- 
ering in  a  voice  which  was  solemn  and  ten- 
der. ''  I  understand  that  you  will  always 
feel  at  times  that  your  part  was  a  small 
one;  that  it  might  perhaps  have  been  more. 
I  suppose  that  is  bound  to  be.  But  if  one 
has  done  something,  I  do  not  think  he  need 
torment  himself  too  much." 

[225] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

"  My  humble  thanks  to  the  men  who  have 
fought  and  died  for  you;  and  for  me,  and 
for  our  children.  To  them,  all  honor  and 
everlasting  glory,"  said  Stockdale. 

"All  glory  and  honor,"  repeated  Miss 
Lovering.  "  My  humble  thanks  also.  But 
it  will  not  help  them  or  us  or  the  world, 
not  to  allow  ourselves  to  be  happy  when 
we  can  be  happy;  when  in  our  hearts  we 
are  so  happy,  will  it?  " 

"No,"  said  Stockdale,  looking  in  her 
eyes,  "  it  would  be  ungrateful  and  wrong." 
The  shade  passed  from  his  face.  "Please 
sing,"  he  begged. 

And  Katherine  Lovering,  leaning  for- 
ward, elbows  on  knees,  her  chin  resting 
in  her  hands,  and  her  eyes  on  Stockdale's 
face,  sang,  sweet  and  low: 

"  There  's  a  long,  long  trail  a-winding, 
Into  the  land  of  my  dreams, 
Where  the  nightingale  is  singing, 
And  a  white  moon  beams. 
There  's  a  long,  long  night  of  waiting, 
Till  my  dreams  all  come  true, 
Till  the  day  when  I  '11  be  going  down 
That  long,  long  trail  with  you." 

At  the  last  note  she  held  out  both  hands. 
"The  night  is  over,"  she  said. 
[226] 


POSTSCRIPT 


POSTSCRIPT 

An  American  Doughboy,  just  returned 
/-\  from  France,  strolled  happily  about 
^  -^  the  streets  of  his  native  city.  Al- 
though it  was  his  intention  to  be  very  leis- 
urely, he  held  himself  erect,  and  it  was  im- 
possible to  prevent  his  steps  from  falling  in 
a  sort  of  cadence.  His  clear  eyes  looked 
out  upon  the  familiar  sights,  confident, 
serene  and  fearless.  On  his  left  sleeve  were 
three  V-shaped  gold  stripes;  on  his  right 
sleeve,  one. 

In  the  course  of  his  peregrinations  he 
happened  to  encounter  The  Man  in  the 
Street,  who  advanced  towards  him  with 
outstretched  hand. 

^^  Shake,"  said  that  individual.  "Wel- 
come Home !  My!  but  it  is  fine  to  have  you 
fellows  back  again!  Every  time  I  see  one 
of  you  with  a  gold  stripe  on  his  arm  the 
weight  that  has  been  tugging  at  my  heart 
for  the  last  year  and  a  half  grows  lighter. 
I  shall  never  quite  lose  it  all ;  I  don't  expect 
or  want  to  do  that,  but  it's  going  fast." 
[229] 


AT   A   DOLLAR   A  YEAR 

"  Perhaps  it  isn't  good  to  be  back!"  said 
the  Doughboy  with  a  grin. 

The  Man  in  the  Street  took  the  Dough- 
boy by  the  arm,  and  the  two  walked  on 
together. 

"  Now  tell  me,"  said  the  former, "  if  there 
is  anything  I  can  do  for  you." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  and  then 
The  Man  in  the  Street  answered  his  own 
question. 

^^  No,  of  course  there  is  n't.  You  are  well, 
strong,  unafraid,  and  in  your  heart  is  the 
happiness  of  having  met  the  hardest  test  a 
human  being  can  face  and  of  coming  through 
it  one  of  the  saviors  of  the  world.  The  grat- 
itude of  every  man,  woman  and  child  in 
the  country  is  yours,  and  their  admiration, 
reverence  and  love.  As  long  as  you  live 
you  will  know  you  are  a  hero,  just  as  much 
as  Bayard,  or  Leonidas,  or  Shaw,  or  any 
one  of  those  fellows  we  read  about  in  his- 
tory. And  here  you  are  walking  our  streets 
just  like  the  rest  of  us."  The  Man  in  the 
Street  shook  his  head  contemplatively  from 
side  to  side,  and  then  went  on.  "  No,  there 
is  nothing  I  can  do  for  you.  But  you  can 
do  something  for  me." 

^^How  so?"  inquired  the  Doughboy. 

[230] 


POSTSCRIPT 

^^You  can  tell  me  a  little  of  what  you 
know,"  answered  the  other.  ^^  You  can  help 
me  to  understand  all  that  has  taken  place, 
and  to  formulate  my  ideas  for  the  future. 
Your  eyes  have  seen  and  mine  are  blind. 
I  can  only  surmise  hesitatingly  and  with 
doubt.    You  know.    Tell  me." 

^^  Pshaw!"  exclaimed  the  Doughboy,  "I 
haven't  got  anything  to  tell  you." 

"  You  know,"  repeated  The  Man  in  the 
Street  in  steadfast  tones. 

The  Doughboy  looked  in  his  companion's 
eyes  and  saw  he  did  indeed  seek  truth ;  and 
so  he  spoke  from  his  heart. 

''  First  and  last,"  he  said,  ''  I  've  thought 
a  lot  about  how  wonderful  it  was  that  this 
country  could  put  forth  the  tremendous 
effort  it  did ;  everyone  pulling  together,  you 
know;  nobody  grouching;  and  all  working 
for  a  single  purpose.  Men,  money,  and  the 
most  willing  kind  of  work  by  all  hands, 
women  and  children  included;  all  without 
limit.  Think  what  that  accomplished! 
And  it  was  a  grand  thing  in  itself.  If  we 
can  do  all  that  for  war,  why  can't  we  do  it 
for  better  things?  There  are  lots  of  better 
things  to  work  for  than  war,  you  know. 
Suppose  everyone  tried  as  hard  to  prevent 

[231] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A   YEAR 

suffering  and  to  give  people  a  square  deal 
as  they  did  to  beat  Germany,  —  and  spent 
only  a  small  part  of  the  money  doing  it  that 
the  war  cost?  We  could  accomplish  some- 
thing if  we'd  only  try.  We  have  shown 
that  there  is  no  job  too  big  for  us  to  tackle 
if  we  get  together  on  it. 

^^  It  is  a  pity  that  people  seem  to  be  for- 
getting this  already.  I  have  been  surprised 
at  some  of  the  things  I  've  heard  since  I  got 
back.  Much  of  the  unity,  the  good  feeling, 
the  sense  of  comradeship  in  working  for  a 
common  cause,  seems  to  be  disappearing.  It 
has  given  place  to  bickerings,  fault  finding, 
indiscriminate  criticism  and  squabbling. 
You  tell  me  I  have  done  a  good  job.  Well,  I 
will  admit  that  I  have  been  happy  about  it, 
and  perhaps  a  little  proud  of  it,  but  what 
I  am  most  proud  about  is  what  the  whole 
country  has  done.  As  far  as  I  know  history 
I  can't  recall  any  other  nation  plunging 
into  the  agonies  of  hell  more  unselfishly, 
for  a  better  purpose  or  with  more  effective 
results.  It  seems  to  me  that  if  America 
ever  in  the  whole  course  of  its  existence  was 
entitled  to  hold  up  its  head  and  throw  its 
chest  out  a  bit,  it  is  right  now.  Bragging 
is  n't  quite  the  thing,  of  course,  but  it  is 

[232] 


POSTSCRIPT 

enough  sight  better  than  bellyaching.  But 
most  of  the  talk  I  hear  is  about  the  mistakes 
we've  made;  how  we  ought  to  have  got 
into  the  war  sooner;  how  this  or  that  part 
of  the  war  work  fell  down;  how  much  we 
owe  to  the  French,  to  the  English,  to  Italy, 
Siam,  China,  to  the  planet  Mars;  to 
everybody  but  ourselves.  To  be  sure,  we 
landed  more  than  two  million  soldiers  in 
France  across  three  thousand  miles  of  sub- 
marine infested  salt  water;  the  British 
Tommies  and  French  poilus  say  that  we 
gave  the  punch  which  ended  things;  our 
navy  certainly  turned  the  scale  in  keeping 
the  seas  open;  and  incidentally  we  supplied 
the  world  with  food.  At  least  that 's  what 
I  thought,  but  maybe  I  dreamed  it.  Any- 
how I  don't  hear  those  things  mentioned 
over  here.  There  is  lots  of  blame  to  be 
passed  around,  but  no  credit.  I  suppose 
perhaps  it  is  reaction  after  strenuous  effort, 
but  it  is  a  pity  to  react  into  pettiness,  and 
meanness  and  spite. 

"  I  said  there  are  better  things  than  war. 
There  can't  be  anything  much  worse. 
There  is  n't  a  man  who  has  been  in  the  thick 
of  it  who  has  a  good  word  to  say  for  war. 
Getting  killed  is  nothing.    We've  all  got 

[233] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

to  die  some  day.  It's  the  beastiality  and 
wickedness  of  it  that  hurts.  When  I  got 
into  our  first  fight  it  came  on  me  as  a  good 
deal  of  a  shock  that  I  had  been  brought 
way  across  the  Atlantic  Ocean  just  to  kill 
people,  not  in  theory,  you  know,  but  in 
plain  every-day  fact,  and  that  it  was  now 
up  to  me  actually  to  do  it.  I  would  n't  tell 
you  about  some  of  the  things  I've  seen. 
The  only  thing  I  want  to  do  is  to  forget 
them.  You  ask  any  of  our  men  who  were 
in  the  Argonne  Forest,  and  see  if  they  don't 
say  the  same.  Ask  men  who  saw  some  of 
the  released  English  prisoners  after  the 
armistice,  and  get  them  to  tell  you  what 
they  think  of  the  by-products  of  war.  No, 
I  was  glad  to  do  my  share,  because  there 
was  n't  any  other  possible  way;  but  now  that 
the  idea  of  war  as  a  fine  thing  in  itself  has 
been  pretty  well  knocked  out  of  everyone's 
head,  even  including  the  Germans,  I  guess, 
men  have  got  to  find  a  means  of  settling  the 
ordinary  quarrels  of  nations  in  some  other 
way  than  by  spraying  one  another  with 
liquid  fire  or  filling  one  another's  lungs  with 
poison  gas.  It's  too  damn  stupid;  sheer 
idiocy. 

*^  The  men  who  do  the  fighting  ought  to 

[234] 


POSTSCRIPT 

have  some  say  about  what  they're  fighting 
for.  It  isn't  fair  for  half  a  dozen  men  who 
control  the  government  of  a  country  to  set  up 
a  holler  every  time  a  difference  arises  with 
another  country,  that  their  nation's  honor 
is  at  stake  and  that  in  consequence  there  is 
no  way  out  but  war.  It  would  be  fair 
enough,  perhaps,  if  each  of  those  half  dozen 
men  put  on  a  private's  uniform  when  hos- 
tilities began;  but  that  isn't  the  way  it 
works.  Don't  misunderstand  me,  now;  I  'm 
not  talking  about  this  war.  There  wasn't 
any  chance  for  a  fair  solution  this  time. 
You  can't  reason  with  an  insane  criminal. 
I  am  talking  about  disputes  between  na- 
tions where  neither  one  of  them  is  crazy. 
And  I  am  thinking  of  the  talk  of  certain 
men  at  the  Peace  Conference  who  said  the 
other  day  that  the  honor  of  their  nation 
depended  upon  whether  they  got  a  certain 
bit  of  territory  or  not.  That  was  a  lie.  The 
honor  of  a  nation  doesn't  depend  on  any 
such  matter.  There  mustn't  be  any  more 
of  that  sort  of  thing.  It 's  what  we  fought 
this  war  to  prevent.  If  the  war  has  n't  done 
that,  it  has  n't  done  much. 

^^We  can't  stop  wars  merely  by  saying 
we  won't  have  them.    We  have  got  to  put 

[235] 


AT  A   DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

something  else  in  their  place.  We  must 
fill  up  the  void  which  war  will  leave  if 
we  want  to  cut  it  out  for  good  and  all. 
I  don't  know  how  it  is  to  be  done,  but 
people  ought  to  try  and  find  a  way." 

The  Man  in  the  Street  had  been  listening 
intently. 

"Anything  more?"  he  asked  in  earnest 
tones,  as  the  Doughboy  ceased  talking. 

The  Doughboy's  eyes  were  looking 
straight  before  him. 

"  You  know  I  Ve  seen  lots  of  good  friends 
die;  I  have  realized  that  life  in  this  world 
is  a  pretty  temporary  aflfair.  We  all  know 
that,  of  course,  but  I  had  never  fully  real- 
ized it  before ;  in  just  the  way  I  realize  this 
sidewalk  we're  on,  I  mean.  Then,  too, 
I  've  been  in  places  myself  where  I  did  n't 
have  the  slightest  hope  of  getting  out. 
There  didn't  seem  to  be  much  help  on 
earth." 

"Well?"  said  The  Man  in  the  Street. 

"General  Foch,"  answered  the  Dough- 
boy, "  used  to  spend  a  half  hour  or  so  alone 
in  church  nearly  every  day,  at  a  time  when 
he  was  reasonably  busy  carrying  the  weight 
of  the  civilized  world  on  his  shoulders. 
I  've  tried  it;  it's  a  help."  The  Man  in  the 
[236] 


POSTSCRIPT 

Street  nodded  his  head  in  agreement.  "  You 
bet  it  is,"  he  said  emphatically.  "Even 
those  of  us  over  here  have  had  moments 
during  the  last  two  years  when  we  felt  the 
need  of  something  different  from  what  we 
could  find  in  the  newspapers  or  derive  from 
chit-chat." 

"  There 's  only  one  thing  more  I  am  going 
to  say,"  went  on  the  Doughboy,  "  and  it  is 
this.  When  you  consider  the  novelty  of  the 
problems  which  had  to  be  dealt  with,  the 
distance  from  which  we  had  to  work,  and 
the  scale  on  which  things  had  to  be  done, 
there's  only  one  answer.  The  people  of 
this  country  have  accomplished  the  impos- 
sible. All  the  fault-finding  and  unreason- 
ing criticism  I  spoke  of  will  disappear  soon. 
It 's  only  scum  risen  to  the  surface  and  time 
will  spoon  it  off  and  throw  it  away  in  some 
sewer  where  it  belongs.  But  the  thing  I 
want  to  emphasize  is  that  the  qualities 
which  made  all  this  achievement  possible 
were  right  there  in  our  people  all  the  time. 
War  does  n't  make  people  over.  The  most 
it  can  do  is  to  bring  out  what  is  in  them. 

"  It  ought  to  help  things  in  the  future  to 
remember  what  Americans  are  capable  of 
doing.     I  hope  we  won't  hear  any  more 

[237] 


AT  A  DOLLAR  A  YEAR 

talk  of  the  U.  S.  A.  being  merely  a  geo- 
graphical expression  or  any  cheap  glorifi- 
cation of  other  nations  at  the  expense  of 
our  own. 

"  In  the  long  years  of  peace  for  which  we 
all  hope  and  pray,  when  there  will  be  no 
opportunity  for  a  Spot-light  display  of  the 
willingness  of  our  people  to  suffer,  to  sac- 
rifice, and  to  work  together  for  the  common 
good,  I  am  not  going  to  be  troubled  in  my 
mind  by  surface  indications.  I  shall  know 
that  deep  down,  the  ability,  and  the  faith, 
and  the  will,  are  there  always." 

"This  is  mighty  interesting,"  said  The 
Man  in  the  Street.  "  I  have  been  anxious 
for  a  long  time  to  know  what  you  fellows 
thought.  The  rest  of  us  realize  that  all  this 
work  you  speak  of,  from  that  of  the  Presi- 
dent down  was  merely  auxiliary.  The 
actual  job  had  to  be  done  by  the  American 
doughboy;  and  you  did  it.  It  is  the  opin- 
ion of  you  men  who  have  done  the  job 
that  is  going  to  decide  things  in  the 
U.  S.  A.  for  a  considerable  period ;  as  long 
as  we  live,  I  guess.  It's  only  fair,  and  it's 
right." 

"The  Doughboy  laughed.  "You  never 
can  tell,"  he  answered,  still  smiling. 

[238] 


POSTSCRIPT 

"  At  any  rate  what  you  Ve  said  has  been 
a  help.    It's  what  I  wanted  to  know." 

^^If  you  really  mean  that,"  said  the 
Doughboy  shyly,  '^  there  is  something  you 
can  do  for  me." 

''What  is  that?"  asked  the  Man  in  the 
Street  eagerly. 

''Write  it  out  so  people  can  read  it. 
Good-bye." 

"Good-bye  and  good  luck!"  said  The 
Man  in  the  Street  heartily.  He  walked 
away  in  deep  thought.  '"Yes,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "  I  will  try  to  do  that." 


[239] 


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